Rebirth
by Sakiku
Summary: Vegeta manages to escape from the reign of Furiza and lands on earth. There, he finds his soulmate AU about BV WARNINGS: heavy cussing, explicit violence, graphic rape, hinted yaoi, and lemmon
1. Suffering

A/N: Hello there again! This is my second fanfic, this time centered around Vegeta in an A/U. It is the first time I have tried to put some sexual scenes in my stories, so I don't know if I made it convincing (I lack experience...). Enjoy this chapter, the next one is soon to follow.

WARNING: THIS IS FOR MATURE READERS ONLY AS THERE IS RAPE, SEX (yaoi + lemmon in later chapters), AND LOTS OF VIOLENCE, SO DON'T SAY I HAVEN'T WARNED YOU!!!!!

Disclaimer: ... ... ... do you really think I own DBZ? ... ... ... then you must be even more stupid than me... ... ... and I wish I could make some money with this story, but get real *whines * . I will have to deal with only my pocket money ... ... ... and this one disclaimer (or the lack thereof) has to be enough for all the chapters, got it!?!?

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Suffering

How am I supposed to get out of this shit I call my life? Running away like a coward or facing the Aisu-jin? Who is going to help me?

I know that nobody will come to rescue me, and that knowledge weighs more than a ton of bricks. My father has given me away to that bastard, and only two idiots are allowed to stay with me. One of them is a horny weakling, the other one a brainless bully, and I have to share my room with them every day. 

I have been here for the better part of my life, and I am starting to forget what my home was like. Not that I'm going back there anyways, it doesn't exist any more. That son of a bitch has told me that it had been hit by an asteroid. As if I would believe such a cowardly lie ... My father was far stronger than a simple piece of shitty rock, and our detection grid would have warned us early enough.

But what am I thinking, there is no 'us' any more, just me and those two brainless idiots. Nobody else. We three are the last of our race. How ironic that we planet-destroying purgers have been erased ourselves by an even bigger fish.

The only thing that is keeping me going is the burning desire for revenge. One day, I will kill that bastard and avenge my people. But the waiting, the constant humiliations, the burning rage is eating me slowly from the inside out. I might appear as a heartless, cruel murderer as this is the only thing that bastard has taught me to do; although on the inside, I have retained some emotions, only the seeds of them. 

My people was a very passionate one, and that enabled us to bring out our full potential. But the merciless education in that bastard's army has emotionally crippled me; I can no longer live my passions and thus not access my full power. I have been taught by being beaten within an inch of my life every day for the first three years of my service, then I was the one who did the beating. I couldn't afford any sentimental feelings because I would not have survived. The only thing I have retained is the burning battle lust and the seething anger and hatred for that son of a bitch.

Suddenly, the metal door to the small room I have to share with dumbass and weakling hisses open, and a grim Nappa enters and bows.

"Vegeta-ouji, Lord Furiza wishes to see you in the throne room immediately."

I only nod absently and proceed to clothe myself in the typical uniform of the Aisu-jin army, a blue or black spandex, and some white-golden armor. When you are speaking of the devil ...

I probably won't be able to use the clothes afterwards any more, so I don't know why I even bother with dressing. I am pretty sure that I am going to end up in a regen-tank, broken, bloodied, and my clothes torn to shreds. That is actually already a vast improvement. In the first three years I have spent here, I would wake up in a bloody pulp on the floor as nobody cared if I died or not. But now, I am one of that bastard's most powerful soldiers, so he can't afford loosing me. Although that doesn't mean he won't beat me within an inch of my life on every occasion - or use my body in ... other ways.

Forcefully choking off my thoughts, I leave the room and walk quickly through the cold, plain, grey hallways of the main base. Many soldiers are hurriedly passing on business errands or god knows what else, giving me fearful glances, but I ignore those weaklings completely.

Furiza seems to have taken a liking to torturing me in every possible way, probably because I am the only one dumb enough to not submit to him. He always tries to make me call him 'Lord Furiza', but that is something that bastard will never hear from my mouth. I am a prince, and princes don't call anybody their superior. 

That is the other thing that is keeping me sane: my pride. I cling to it desperately because that is the only thing nobody can take away – not even the Aisu-jin. But it is getting harder and harder; ever since that son of a bitch has made me his personal sex toy, I have been continuously fighting to maintain my pride. I have never begged him to stop before, but every time he is stroking my tail, my resistance is weakens immensely, and on more than one occasion, I would have almost given up.

Does he know what he is doing to me?

Yes, I am sure of that. He is a master at such things. But I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. Never.

I set up the stony mask that displays a fierce scowl and dangerously furrowed eyebrows, the facade I have trimmed to perfection. Over the years, it has become my constant facial expression, and it is a great asset in scaring people that are too curious away. 

Stomping through the huge doors into the throne room, I completely ignore the people that are assembled and head straight towards that bastard's hovering chair. He usually has some high officials with him when he decides to 'punish' me, making my humiliation even greater. From what I have gathered, it is a great honor to be invited to a 'monkey session' as they call it. There are always bets on me if I break during the torture that day or not, and they are cheering for the bastard, especially when the second part of the ... program ... begins.

Only one time, I have made the mistake of blasting one of the rowdy spectators. The Aisu-jin had only looked at the smoking pile of ashes, and declared that that had been an important diplomat from the LeBoda-system. Then he had shown me his true abilities in the art of torturing people.

First, he had used me as a punching bag, breaking each and every one of my bones repeatedly, bathing in the blood that I coughed up because one rib had punctured my lung. Then he had proceeded to cut deep into my flesh with a super-heated _ki_-beam several times. The wounds it left were completely bloodless, but so deep that my bone fragments were visible. As a final touch, he had carved his name right across my shoulders, marking me as his property. I still bear that scar today, and it is one source of my infinite hatred for him.

I hadn't known that a single body could take so much punishment; but afterwards, I was still conscious and could smell the stench of my burned flesh, making me gag. As if that had not been enough, he had lowered himself over my broken body, and he had satisfied himself inside me. That had been the first time he had used me in that way, and that was when he had almost broken me. 

I had just come of age, the time when a Saiya-jin reached sexual maturity, and thus my whole body was highly perceptible to all advances. During the time of First Heat, all Saiyan children on Vegeta-sei were together with their families who guided them through their first sexual experiences, strengthening the bonds of friendship. It was an honor to be allowed to help somebody into his adult-hood, and the First Coupling was supposed to bring great pleasure to the new adult.

When I had woken up later in the regen-tank, I had felt soiled, used, humiliated. At that point of time, I would have almost surrendered. But then, Radditz had stepped in and fetched me from the healing tank. He had carried me to our room despite my protests that I could walk just fine. When he had thrown me on my bed and started petting me, I had almost blasted him into oblivion because my memories of the encounter with Furiza had still been too fresh. The only thing that had held me back was the knowledge that Radditz was one hundred percent loyal to me – and the fact that I actually enjoyed what he was doing.

I had been fighting the pleasurable bolts of electricity that were running through my tail with each stroke, but Radditz told me to enjoy it and that it was something completely natural. Up until that point of time, I never knew what it meant when Radditz smelled spicy, like earth after a fresh rain. I had only known that he became restless and that he left each night during that time and came back with the scent of somebody else clinging to him like a second skin. I had always assumed that he had just been itching for a spar, and I had never understood why he would prefer some races of inferior strength to his own people.

I had always thought him weak because of that, but that night changed my opinion of him – somewhat. He had been very careful with me, as if I was his own son or brother, and he had taught me that sexual encounters could also bring satisfaction to both partners. He had taken a lot of time just petting me, tracing his fingers over my scarred skin, waiting until I relaxed under his light ministrations and his dense scent. 

I had never known what a soft touch felt like, I had only experienced hurtful punches and kicks before, so I was soon overwhelmed by my new, gentle experiences. That night and the following two, Radditz had taught me all he knew about the Saiyan family bonds and mating; the first by actual demonstrations, the latter by telling me. 

When he had been sent to join the Aisu-jin army together with me, he had already been of age a couple of years; after all, he is more than ten years older than me. Secretly, I am glad that he took me under his wings, if only for a few days, but that had helped me to resist Furiza. During that time, he had built up my lost confidence, making me harder than ever before. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

He had also refreshed my memories of Vegeta-sei because I had been merely seven years old when I had been given to that bastard. I was surprised how much I had forgotten, so we made it a habit to talk about our home every once in a while – if none of us was on a purging mission or in a regen-tank. 

Where I am probably going to end up in a few minutes or hours, depending on that bastard's mood. I call his attention towards me quite rudely because he deserves nothing better.

"What do you want?"

He turns away from his communication partner and absently backhands me hard in the face. It was so fast that I didn't even see it coming. I just felt my head turn until my neck almost snapped, and now blood is collecting in my mouth. Angrily, I spit it out, directly in front of the feet of that son of a bitch. He glances down at the bloodied spot, and then stares at me with his heartless red pupils. His voice is utterly repulsive, so high and slimy when he addresses me.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, as rude as ever. When are you going to learn some manners fit for a prince?"

Another punch as fast as lightening crashes directly into my ribs before I can do anything. I can hear my bones cracking from the pressure, and I cough up some more blood. Pain lances through my chest, but over the years, I have become so familiar with it that I can just ignore it. 

I can hear the other guests cheer and whistle as if they were applauding a show. I hate those ruthless bastards that take pleasure from seeing those stronger than them bleed. Trying to distract myself, I imagine what it would be like to hear their screams when I break their bones. I can't help it, but a malicious smirk plays around my lips at that thought. Their unarticulated howls of pain would be music to my ears.

I am roughly called back to reality when my feet are kicked out from beneath my body, and a sharp elbow sends me crashing to the floor. Before I can even think about getting up, a foot stomps on my neck and hods me down, making me choke. 

I know that resistance is futile, but nevertheless, I send an energy blast right into that bastard's face. I am quite surprised when his weight is actually lifted off me, and I quickly use the short time to scramble to my feet. Before I can do anything else though, I feel myself getting slammed into the tiles face first again.

"So you want to play?"

I hate him so much that all of my vision turns bloody red from rage and I thrash around to the best of my abilities. But I am not as fortunate to catch him off-guard as before, so he merely amplifies the pressure of his cold fingers on my arms that he has twisted behind my back. At that point, my shoulders are burning like hell, but I won't give up as I don't actually care about a dislocated shoulder.

My two broken ribs are grinding together painfully, but I ignore them. Perhaps I can make that bastard mad enough so that he won't rape me. Over the years, I have learned to live with the pain, but the forced sex is as humiliating as on the first day. I manage to bend my hands around so far that I can get a grip on his ice cold arms, but I don't have enough power to bust his stronghold, so I take the only option possible.

Unwrapping my tail from my waist, I let it sneak up behind that bastard and loop it around his throat. Then I pull with all my might, hoping to do some damage. I think I have caught that son of a bitch unaware again because his weight suddenly disappears from my back. I just want to send a Gallic Gun after him when an excruciating pain shoots from the tip of my tail up to the base of my skull. 

Damn him, he's got my tail again. I should not have been as stupid as to give my most vulnerable appendage into his hands. But now, it is too late. I can feel it how he squeezes the fragile bones together, and I have to bite my tongue to suppress a scream. With a silent snap, he has crushed the smallest vertebra at the tip of my tail, and I inhale sharply as the pain is flowing through my veins. 

He is experimentally rolling his thumb over the broken bone, and he seems to be very delighted at the shudder of agony passing through my body. 

I have trained my overly sensitive tail for countless hours to be as immune to being squeezed as the rest of my body, but Furiza seems to know exactly how to inflict the most pain. When the tip of my tail grows somewhat numb to the torture, he feels for the next bone and crushes it between his finger.

I am lost in a bloody haze of pain and agony, but not so much that I wouldn't feel his cold claws shredding my pants and some of my skin in the process. Managing a deep growl in my throat, I twist myself around to blast him right in his ugly face, but before I can even halfways see him, one of his booted feet crashes into my right hip and fractures it in tiny pieces.

Using my momentary paralysis from the pain, he brutally shoves his length into my entry that had been only slightly lubricated by my blood. I can feel my flesh ripping open from the force of it, and I claw at the floor to contain my screams. He is still holding my broken tail in his fingers, and he is shaking it like a rope, making the broken vertebrae grind together infinitely painfully.

But all I can think about at the moment is the icy length in my body and the hot blood trickling down between my legs. He begins to pump in and out as he works himself into a frenzy; and with every brutal thrust, my hip is screaming in protest. I can hear his grunts of pleasure as he is satisfying himself with my body, and hot bile rises in my throat from disgust. 

Now, he is sucking at my tail, running his icy hand up and down the fur in a very stimulating manner. I have to fight hard to keep my dignity and not cry out in pleasure, because despite my pain, this is arousing me fast. I try to keep my body under control, but that bastard knows exactly what buttons to push, and soon I am shuddering from pleasure. To keep the last shreds of my dignity intact, I bite down hard into my own forearm to muffle all sounds.

I can feel him hard and cold against my sore insides, scraping me, hurting me, humiliating me to the utter extent. From his labored grunts, I can hear that he is nearing the breaking point, and when he spills his seed into my bloodied body, he rakes his claws through the muscles on by back, leaving eight deep gashes running down.

But the torture on my tail doesn't stop, and soon I am over the edge myself, spilling my seed into the growing pool of blood beneath me with a last, violent shudder. Now, I am lying there limp, panting, pained. His weight is leaving my body, and I scramble to my feet, not caring about the blood and the seed dripping to the floor. Scraping the last rests of my dignity together, I stand as straight and proud as possible, carefully wrapping my injured tail around my waist. His high-pitched voice pierces into my awareness.

"Ah, you are such a nice tight fuck."

Laughter erupts all around me as I am trembling from anger, ready to kill all of them. A bluish-white aura ignites around me as my power is rising, and that bastard is cocking an eyebrow at me.

"Still so much energy left? You haven't had enough? No problem, we can fix that."

The laughter of the crowd is stuck in my ears, wandering through my brain while he is raping me again and again until I lie on the floor completely drained of my power, stripped of my dignity. The only thing I can pride myself on is that I haven't given that bastard the satisfaction of hearing me scream even once. His stinking breath whispers against my ears as he bends down to me.

"That was fun, we should do that more often. But at the moment, I have a more important task for you. Take the other two monkeys with you and clear planet Berefu. And if you are a good boy, you will get a nice reward. I expect you to depart within the hour, so hurry up and get out of here!"

With those words, he gives me a last kick into my broken ribs that sends me flying through the opened door and halfways down the hallway. Sneering faces pass my broken body as they watch me struggle to get up. 

Does that bastard think he can break me like that? He only adds fuel to the burning rage in my heat.

Right. If I keep telling myself that, perhaps I am going to believe it one day. In reality, I am thoroughly disgusted at myself for my inability to control the reactions of my body. Limping to our room, I have to suppress a wince at every step because both of my ankles are broken, and my right hip is fractured.

I leave a bloody trail on the floor, but that is the least of my worries. For the moment, I am completely concentrated on reaching our room without passing out on the hallway. I swear, that bastard has deliberately placed our room at the other end of the base so that I have to suffer longer. I grit my teeth and stumble through the corridors.

Luckily, Radditz crosses my path and carries me back to our room without asking any stupid questions. I would have killed everybody else for helping me, but that brotherly bond we had formed that night allows me to accept such a show of compassion. In our room, I tell him of our mission while he is patching me up with long years of practice. When he is done, he leaves to get Nappa while I wash the rest of the blood and the semen off my skin and get dressed. 

The make-shift casts around my ankles and my hip are strong enough to support my broken bones, but the stitches on my back are quite crude and the blood-flow is barely staunched. I still feel light-headed from the blood-loss and every breath hurts, but I just ignore it.

As soon as I am ready, weakling and dumbass enter and escort me to our pods. Most of my injuries are going to heal during the six-week-flight, and I am going to be as good as new once we arrive. I'll probably need all of my strength because Berefu is said to have some of the toughest defenses. At least I will be free from that bastard for a few months.

We arrive at the space-port, and everybody scrambles away from us in fear. Although we are the last three Saiya-jin, we have gained us quite a bit of reputation, and all except Zarbon, Dodoria, the Ginyu goons, and the bastard himself respect us. It is great to see that I can still strike fear in hearts despite my injuries. 

We enter our personal pods that are already waiting for us, and soon we are launched. The added gravity from the acceleration presses my wounded back uncomfortably into the seat, and my broken tail sends bolts of agony up my spine. But soon enough, we are out of the atmosphere, and I program the coordinates for Berefu.

I know that the two of them don't have enough brains to set the course themselves, so I send them the data. For all I despise them, they are the last two members of my race, and I am their prince, so I have some responsibility for them, don't I?

I grumble, the sleeping gas always gives me funny thoughts during the first stage, but I don't have enough time for complaining. Within a few seconds, I am in a haze induced by the mixture that was specially designed for us Saiya-jin. With our high immune system, we need drugs strong enough to kill lesser races, and even those won't knock us out completely, just let us forget all coherent thoughts. During that time, we are reduced to mindless animals. Only able to react on instinct. 

The haze is getting stronger. My thoughts slow down. Then, I am caught in that endless bright moment where my brain only receives information but doesn't know what to do with it.

A/N: So, what do you think? Good/bad? Please review!


	2. Earth

A/N: Well here is the next chapter. I didn't think I could post it so soon, and the next one will take some more time. There are no warnings, except for the excessive cussing (but get real – he wouldn't be our favorite Vegeta if he didn't cuss). The next chapter will be much more violent though. I hope that I didn't make Vegeta too much OOC, but see for yourself.

To redhead: Sorry, this chapter won't be angsty, but I can promise the next one will be more to your liking.

To utsukushi: Thanks a lot, that is great. Enjoy this one!

To NIGHTSCREAM: Don't we all love that badass that wears pink shirts? Well, I hope Vegeta isn't too much OOC in this chapter, and I tried to imagine what an alien would see when walking through our forests. Actually, I haven't even decided when he is going to meet Bulma, but I don't think it will be soon. Hope you are not too disappointed!

To otaku: Yeah, poor Veggie-chan! And it will get only gradually better! *grins evilly * I love veggie-torture *cackles insanely * 

Earth

Something is not quite right. I don't know what it is, but I have a bad feeling of foreboding, as if I had lost something important. Tiredly, I open my eyes to check the controls of the ship. What the fuck!?!

Only the red emergency illumination is glowing unsteadily, and everything else is shut down. Either the sleeping system has been damaged, too, or the computer has recognized the mal-function; anyways, I am somewhere in outer space in a broken pod that only has limited oxygen supply. But before I suffocate, I'd starve to death because there are no food supplies on board. What nice options.

Looking around, I try to determine which parts of the life-support are still working. The oxygen refresher is ok, also the climate control. But that's about it. No power unit, no navigation, no communication. Damn it. At least the hull is intact. 

What the hell has happened? The computer is a single pile of molten trash, but there is no hole in the walls. Cursing, I unstrap myself. There is not a lot of space to work in, but I do my best. Carefully, I remove the front panel of the computer. The machine behind is to three quarters irreparably damaged, and the rest doesn't look much better.

Muttering all curses I know, I start working with what I have. I'd never thought the time I have spent in the tech-labs as a kid would pay off so much. Granted, that was more than 10 years ago, but I can still remember a lot. Using my ki as a welding torch, I slowly close circuits again, attach loose chips to the main board, and after countless hours of tiresome work, I have finally fixed what is not beyond repair. 

Now I'll have to see what is working again. Switching on the computer, I anxiously wait for the results to show up. At first, nothing happens, but then, a hologram of the galaxy flickers alive in the air over the computer. Where the hell am I? The red dot that represents my ship is somewhere at the outer rim of the galaxy, hundreds and thousands of lightyears away from the Aisu-jin empire. Shit, and I have to land here somewhere.

I touch the solar system closest to the red dot, and the map is magnified. I can see a small whitish-golden sun that is surrounded by nine planets, one of them, Sol 5, big enough to have a gravity like Vegeta-sei. But the data on Sol 5 promises not very much, it is a turbulent gas planet, the atmosphere is not respirable, and there are dust storms on the surface that have up to 400 mph. Not very hospitable.

Sol 2, 3, and 4 have better living conditions, but only Sol 3 has abundant oxygen in its atmosphere. Otherwise, there is no data on Sol 3, because the Sol-system is nearly at the other end of the galaxy from the Aisu-jin Empire. I still have no clue how I ended up here, because even with a space pod that is completely intact, it would have taken several months to cross distances like that.

I have the bad feeling that Radditz and Nappa have been destroyed by whatever has hit us, or at least they are as deeply in shit as I am; otherwise they would have already come looking for me. Now I am completely alone, presumably the last one of my race. But before I die, I will try everything in my might to get my revenge on that bastard. 

At first, I will have to make him believe that I am dead, then I can work on getting stronger. Then, in a few years, I will return and finally avenge my people. For now though, I will have to hide on that puny piece of rock called Sol 3, and see if I can repair the space pod. That is where the ship is heading anyways. I will only have to make slight course corrections, and then I will be in the orbit of Sol 3. 

That damned engine is still not working, so I am forced to do those small changes with my _ki_, which is an arduous task as the pod is so heavy and I am low on energy as my body has used a lot of it to heal. After a few hours, I have entered the Sol-system and am passing Sol 8. I will have to use the gravitational pull of Sol 5 to slingshot me into the orbit of Sol 3, and this tricky maneuver is going to cost all of my attention. The timing has to be exact; otherwise I might be either shot back into outer space or sent directly into the sun.

A lot of curses later, my spacepod is finally heading towards Sol 3, and I am almost completely drained of my energy. It seems that I have underestimated the enormous gravity of Sol 5, so I had to struggle hard to get out of its reach again. I almost didn't make it.

But now, I can already see Sol 3 as a tiny spot in the black space. It is getting larger very fast, and I have to admit that it is prettier than most planets. Approximately three quarters of its surface are covered by blue water, and above the huge oceans, there are many white clouds, almost like a veil. The continents are a greenish-brown, and there are white caps of ice on both of the poles. 

Entering the atmosphere, I prepare for a harsh landing. The rest of my ki allows me to slow the pod down so far that it is not smashed to a pancake on impact, but the contact with the surface is still not pleasant. My head is banged on the ceiling, and I am almost knocked out. Red stars are exploding in my line of vision, I feel very dizzy, and a monster headache is forming in my skull. 

Groaning, I open the hatch – only to have water shooting in. Damn it, that is really not good. First, I go through great efforts to no land on an ocean, then I crash into a lake that is not bigger than half a square mile. My life is really fucked up. 

I decide that I can't do anything at the moment as I am too weak to lift the pod, so I abandon it. Rising into the air with the last of my ki, I watch my spacepod disappear with a last few bubbles, then the surface of the lake is still again. Curses streaming from my mouth, I head towards the lush greenery that is surrounding the lake. That is really great. I am stranded on a planet I know nothing about, not even if there are sentient life forms around, and I don't have my scouter with me. 

First priority of survival in foreign environments is to get familiar with the surroundings and find something to eat. I sniff around to take in all the new scents. I can smell a lot of water, wet soil, and some strong, almost pungent odor. It seems to come from the trees. Alertly, I carefully home in on the scent. To my surprise, I am standing right in front of a tall tree with long, green needles. That single tree smells this strong?

Shaking my head in disbelief, I continue exploring the forest. There are many different types of plants, trees, flowers, and some small insects are crawling around on the floor. I don't worry if they are poisonous or not, because my immune system can take care of almost every toxin, thus the heavy drug dosage for the sleeping mode on Saiyan spacepods. The wind is rustling in the leaves, and every now and then, some tweeting and chirping noises are heard. Could that be communication of the inhabitants of that planet?

Careful to not leave a trail behind, I brush through the vegetation. Some plants are covered by thick thorns, which hints at bigger life forms that are predominately herbivores; otherwise the plants wouldn't need the protection. And where there are herbivores, there are also carnivores that keep the natural balance intact. I am quite sure that on a planet with such a weak gravity life forms can't be strong enough to hurt me, but I don't want to take any risks in my current situation.

Suddenly, there is a tweet right besides me. I whirl around only to stare into a pair of very small onyx eyes. The creature is tiny enough to fit comfortably into one of my palms, it has a short orange beak, and reddish-brown feathers are covering its body. Its feet are made to grab small twigs, and they have tiny claws at the end. The creature cocks its head at me, tweets a little bit, and then takes off into the sky with its tiny wings. I don't think that tweeting pile of feathers is too bright because in such a small head there can't be a big brain.

All of a sudden, I get a whiff of ... blood ... in the air. The familiar metallic scent is almost the same as my own blood, so I can probably digest the creature without any problems. Following the current that is bringing me that lively scent, I sneak through the woods. I can hear some heavy panting, some unarticulated, deep growling, and sounds of a fight. 

Finally, I can see the two combatants. They couldn't be more different from each other. The left one is almost as tall as me, has a thick brown fur, walks on four legs, and has sharp teeth that are reddened by blood in its muzzle. The other one is its prey, I assume, because it is small, about 5'4'', and has deep, bleeding bitemarks. But what surprises me the most is its appearance. That is clearly a humanoid species, walking on two legs, using the arms for fighting in lack of other weapons, and having a head shaped almost like mine. 

The humanoid also seems to be quite intelligent, it is wearing clothes, and it is holding a very sharp knife in its right hand that is not injured. Seems like there is sentient life on Sol 3, just not very strong people. I watch the fight for quite some time, and it looks as if the furred creature was attacking the humanoid. From its teeth, I have gathered that the creature is a carnivore, one of the bigger predators. The humanoid has no chance against the creature; it is too weak to hurt the predator critically, and it seems to have little to no fighting experience.

Strange. How can any race survive without strength and without fighting? Technology could do that, but how did that single specimen end up here alone? She is clearly a female, a weak female, so why doesn't some male, her mate, protect her?

Suddenly, my ears pick up a string of muttered curses, almost as colorful as the ones I constantly use. So she is talking, and even in a language I can understand. It is some badly scrambled Universal, but I have no clue how such a backwater planet with no space connections can have knowledge of Universal.

Shaking my head, I decide to step in, perhaps I can get some information out of her; and that big carnivore looks quite edible, reminding me of my hunger. I close in on them with the wind in my face so that there is no chance that they smell me. Then, with a quick lunge, I am on top of the predator and a hard fist to the back of its skull kills it immediately. 

Their bones are so weak, I didn't even put much force behind my punch, and my hand has gone right into the brain. Cleaning the grey goo off my fingers with some big leaves, I turn around to look at the humanoid. She is frozen in her spot in disbelief. Feh, I really wonder how she had planned on surviving this.

Walking up to her, I pluck the knife out of her stiffened hands, and that seems to break the spell. She looses her balance and plops down on her butt very ungracefully, like a sack of bricks. Then she throws her hands in front of her face and starts crying.

Not knowing what to do with her, I shrug my shoulders and begin skinning the furred creature. Its hide is also very soft to me, but I think for this planet, it is quite strong. Slicing its abdomen open, I clear out the intestines. They are surprisingly similar to humanoid organs, but not quite the same. This creature was clearly built for eating nothing else than meat. 

I try some of the still warm flesh, and I am amazed at how tender and juicy it is. The blood has a spicy touch to it that fits quite well to the smell of the trees, not unpleasant at all. Behind me, I hear a high squeal.

"EWWW, you eating that bear raw? That's gross!"

Seems that she's finally pulled herself together. She clearly does not belong into this place because she cleans the dirt off her clothes when she gets up and limps towards me. Not quite knowing what to say, I ask her back.

"Then what do you suggest I should do?"

She looks at me as if I was insane. Her race seems quite developed, because a lot of intelligence is dancing in her eyes, much more intelligence than you need for living your whole life in the wilderness. That would support my theory of a technologically advanced civilization.

"Ehr, start a fire and cook the meat!?!"

Does she think I am completely stupid?

"I know I need a fire to cook, but is there anything that burns?"

Now she looks at me as if I had truly lost my mind. Wordlessly, she gets up and fetches a dry branch from one of the trees. Ah, so they burn wood? Interesting. I've never seen that custom before. On Vegeta-sei, there were only very few trees, and they were sacred. Nobody thought of making a fire with them. We usually used our _ki_ to roast our meals – unless we ate them raw. Blood is rich of nutrients.

Shrugging my shoulders, I get up, too, and collect dry wood. Everything is so light and soft here, I will have to watch my strength to fit in. They probably have never heard of harnessing one's energy, i. E. use _ki_. Still, she looks strangely at me when I drag half a tree behind. Are they really that weak? On Vegeta-sei, even a toddler could lift a tree as light as this one.

She starts breaking the twigs into smaller bits of arm-length, but she even has trouble with the branches no thicker than my wrist. Sighing, I take the twig from her and casually snap it in half. I proceed with the rest of them the same way, and soon, only the tree trunk is left. With a fast chop of my hand, I make a big crack into the wood, then I tear it in half along the fibers. She stares in disbelief at me while I make some firewood.

"Wha - ... How the hell did you do that ?"

Fed up with her constant questions, I give only monosyllabic answers.

"Practice."

I make a nice pile of the twigs, leaving some for later on. Not wanting to hear her annoying voice again, I place my back between her and the pile and shoot a small ki-blast into the wood, always careful that she doesn't see what I do. Seconds later, the pile is burning brightly, and the smoke is irritating my eyes. Nodding towards the – what did she say? Bear? – I ask her:

"How much do you want?"

She carefully steps towards the dead creature, trying to avoid getting any blood on her. Taking the knife I have left besides the carcass, she cuts off a small piece from the shoulder muscle. Is that all she wants? I watch her as she sticks the meat on a pointy twig and holds it over the fire, slowly turning it. She glances up at me.

"Who are you?"

"Vegeta."

"I am Melissa."

When I don't continue our conversation, she looks down on her half-cooked meat again, watching the twig blacken from the heat. I retreat to the dead creature and start eating myself, not bothering to heat the meat. Like I said, fresh blood has the most nutrients, and after healing from my injuries, my body can use all it gets. 

Outwardly, there is nothing left except for the stitches in my back. I will have to get them out soon. All the broken bones I had are healed just fine, too, all except for the two vertebrae at the tip of my tail. They have grown together quite messily, leaving me with a stiff kink in my tail. I hate that bastard. I am reminded of him every few seconds.

Quickly sating my hunger, I tear into the carcass angrily, noticing her disgusted glances at me. Finally, I cut myself a small piece of meat and imitate her way of roasting it over the fire. While I wait for the food to cook, I study her intently.

Her pants and her shirt are quite dirty and torn in many places, and she bleeds from various gashes. The biggest ones are on her left leg and left arm though. That must be the place where the predator got to her first. Her clothes are colored in several shades of brown and green, perhaps trying to imitate the forest, but her lightly tanned skin kills the effect. And together with her bright blond hair, she stands out like a sore thumb. She clearly does not belong into the wilderness.

"Why are you here?"

She looks up again at my question. Apparently surprised at my initiative.

"I am taking part in a survival training. All recruits have to show that they can fend for themselves for a few days in the woods with only a knife as protection. Though I don't seem too good at that."

Averting her gaze, she whispers lightly

"Thank you for saving me."

I only nod, not quite knowing what to respond. Nobody has ever bothered to thank me. We wait silently for our meat to be done, and I am thinking about her answer. Recruits for what? Which recruits would need survival training? Fighters? Perhaps for an army? Perhaps a rescue crew? But why send women as weak as her? Or is she the best this planet has? I hope not, that would be too cruel if I have to spend the rest of my life here.

We also eat quietly. Having finished first, she inspects her wounds quite calmly. Finally, she looks up.

"Do you know where I can wash the blood off me?"

Getting up fluently, I lead her back to the lake where I came from. She just stands there at the edge of the water, looking at me as if she was waiting for something. What does she want now? Isn't she going to wash herself anytime soon? She doesn't make any efforts to get out of her clothes that already start smelling badly.

Wait, is that it? She doesn't want me to see her naked?

Snorting, I turn around. I couldn't care less about some female that is not even my race. Surely enough, I hear her splashing in the water a while later. I take it that there are no big predators in the water here because she got in without hesitation. Or she is just plain dumb.

Finally, she exits the water, and I can smell the blood again. She will have to do something soon, because the scent of fresh blood attracts hunters very fast. I can hear her picking up her clothes, putting on the pants. I have to sigh. She doesn't know anything. Even an alien that has no clue of the planet knows more about surviving in its wilderness than her, a native.

"Just slip in the most important parts of your clothing, the rest will have to serve for dressing your wounds."

She hesitates for a while, then she asks shyly:

"Could you please help me with my injuries, I have never done that before..."

Rolling my eyes, I turn around to see a faint blush on her cheeks. Gripping her clothes from the ground, I walk into the lake until the water comes up to my thighs, and I wash the rags clean from all the blood and dirt. Then, I carefully wring them out and rip them into thin stripes, laying them on a clean stone that has been heated by the sun.

"Come here."

She slowly limps closer, wearing nothing more than necessary to cover her breasts and her nether regions. She doesn't place her full weight on her left foot, but even then, blood spills forth with every step. Finally, she is standing right in front of me. I motion for her to sit on the warm stone before I take up the first stripe of cloth. That task is nothing new to me as I have tended to my own wounds countless times.

"I have to wipe the dirt out of your wounds, so hold still and grit your teeth."

With those words, I dip the cloth into the water and silently heat it with my _ki_ to sterilize it. As weak as she is, she is probably not able to fight some simple viruses or bacteria. When I clean her smaller wounds, she takes in a sharp breath and grows pale, and I can feel her heart beating rapidly. As soon as I reach the one on her left thigh though, she passes out from the pain. Part of me laughs at that display of weakness, the other part is glad to be spared from her whining.

Quickly finishing my task, I wrap her wounds up so that the blood flow is staunched but that she can still move without too many difficulties. Then, I carry her back to the fire and finish the rest of the bear. Seeing that she has not woken up yet, I blast the bones and the blood to avoid attracting other predators. Settling down into a light meditation, I think about my current situation.

Three words are enough to describe it. Completely Fucked Up. My spacepod is somewhere at the bottom of that fucking lake; I probably won't be able to repair it anyways, and the planet I am stranded on has no space travel. I am stuck with a weak, injured female; I have still got that damned chip in me where Furiza can locate me with, and I can't even train properly because I want to learn more about that mud-ball I am stuck on for an indefinite period of time, perhaps the rest of my life. Completely Fucked Up.

But first, I have to get the stitches out. Cursing, I slip out of my armor, then peel the spandex down to my hips where my backbone grows into my tail. The stitches on my lower back are no problem, I can easily grab the threads and rip them apart, but the ones beneath my shoulder blades are impossible to reach. I try getting my hands on them, but as soon as one hand touches them, the other one slips away. I am very frustrated and thoroughly tempted to just send a weak blast at my back, when the nerving voice of the female interrupts me.

"What are you doing?"

Damn it, I thought she would have been out longer.

"Getting the stitches out of my back."

She gets up and limps towards me, grabbing the knife on her way. Wearily, I watch her, not quite sure what she is going to do with the weapon. She probably couldn't hurt me if her life depended on it, but I have learned early on not to trust anybody. Perhaps she is not as unobservant as I thought, because she stops a few feet in front of me and says.

"Turn around so that I can help you. You have already helped me twice, so this is the best I can do in return."

They've got an honor code? That planet is getting more and more interesting. As far as I have seen it, the female seems to think of me to be one of her race, so she probably isn't going to deceive me. Still, I am on my guard while I turn my rigid back to her. She gasps when she sees it and asks with shock in her voice.

"Where did you get all those scars from?"

That fucking bastard has done that to me during my years of serving him both as a warrior and a pet. Almost all of them tell their own tale of pain and humiliation by him – all except the one on my chest, directly over my heart. 

After that night of my First Coupling, I had asked Radditz to give me the mark of Vegeta-sei so that I will never forget who I am. He had only nodded knowingly and carved the royal seal into my chest with a steady stream of ki. I will never forget his grim expression as he held his hand over my heart, burning the intricately swung V of the royal family into my skin while mumbling the traditional words that are usually pronounced at the coronation of the prince. 

All princes were Marked in front of a huge crowd as the future king when they proved their abilities to rule, but as Vegeta-sei has been blown up, my official Marking had been turned to an unofficial one. There also were no celebrations whatsoever, and because of the previous events, I didn't want one, either. It was just Radditz who witnessed my Marking, but that didn't bother me as he was half of my people still left.

I flinch when I feel her cool fingers on my back, lightly tracing the countless scars. Roughly, I snap at her:

"Stop it. If you want to do it, get on with it. Otherwise leave."

Wisely, she doesn't say anything but starts to work. A few minutes later, all threads are gone and she steps back. I pull the top half of my spandex on again, but don't bother to slip into my armor. Looking up into the sky, I realize that Sol has already moved a great deal towards the horizon, and that within an hour night will fall. The days here are not very long , perhaps nine or ten hours, and the nights can't be much different. So one rotation of Sol 3 takes somewhere between 15 and 25 hors. Much shorter than the days and nights of Vegeta-sei.

Turning towards her, I address her in a friendly manner – for my behavior.

"Get some sleep now, we will share the night watch."

She nods and curls together besides the fire, careful to not lie on her injuries. I sit down on the opposite side of the fire and wait. Soon she is deeply asleep, and not even when I get up and start cutting down trees she wakes up. No wonder she was surprised by that bear. How can they send somebody as unfit for wilderness as her to a survival training? 

Shaking my head, I ram some tree trunks deep into the ground and then use some to cover the top. In no time, a shelter stands in the small clearing with the opening towards the fire. It is quite crude, but I guess it is better than nothing. Her pitifully frail body is already shivering from the cold, and it is not in my interest when she dies during the night. 

Not bothering to wake her up, I carry her inside and settle down on the opposite side of the fire. The sounds of the forest blend together in a strange mixture of humming, rustling, creaking and occasional chirps. When the sun disappears under the horizon, the pungent odor of the trees becomes more comfortable to my nose; and the air smells cooler, fresher, not as thickly loaded with scents as during the day. 

She has never said anything about hiding the glow of the fire, so I guess there is no necessity for that. Or she is simply that ignorant to all dangers. In the distance, I can hear the hungry howl of a predator, but it is nothing to worry about as the wind comes from its direction and it can't smell us.

Suddenly, I perk up. To my right side, there are two creatures approaching. I can hear them stomping through the forest because they don't make any efforts to be quiet. They even talk to each other loudly, and both of them have a strong, distinctively male scent. That would make them members of the same race as the female. Her mate?

"Hey, dude, did ya see tha'? Looks like a fire ta me!"

"Yeah, man, ya're right. I'm sick'n'tired of tha' load uv shit they call 'survival training'! Think we can surprise an' scare them people at the fire?"

"Hell yeah, dude, dat's a great idea. Ah bet dey piss deir pants when we sneak up behinds dem!"

Then it's quiet again. Well, not really quiet, I can hear them move through the thick brushes as they are forcing their way through. What kind of idiots are those? They can't move silently, but plan on scaring others. I can follow their footsteps without any problems, and their scent is blown directly into my face. Their abilities of living in the wilderness are none-existent, and I wonder how they plan on completing their 'survival training'. 

Those two males are even worse than the female, and she is clearly not bred to be a warrior. Well, I want to see what they are going to do when confronted with something unsuspected; I love scaring the shit out of people. Silently, I get up, moving stealthily behind a tree. My dark skin and the black spandex swallow all light so that I am almost completely invisible. I have already gotten a feel for the motions in that forest, always swinging in the wind, never resting, and I blend in completely. 

The sound of snapping twigs and rustling leaves is coming closer, and with each one of their steps, the ground trembles almost imperceptibly low. Idiots. Complete idiots. Shaking my head, I watch them enter the clearing, heading towards the fire.

"Hey, dude, noone's here!"

Are they serious? They talk like some uneducated third-class-warrior, and they are even dumber than Nappa has ever been. At least he knew how to fight.

"Look, man, there's a hut. We can sleep in there during the night!"

"Super, dude, let's go!"

Before they get to do anything though, I quickly move behind them and clamp my hands on their shoulders with a feral growl. It is really easy as they are a few inches shorter than me with my 6'3''. They flinch heavily, and then start screaming loudly. Amused by their pathetic reaction, I snarl dangerously:

"Shut up or I'll kill you. You're hurting my ears."

Abruptly, they close their mouths, and the scream is echoing behind in the night. I have to say, it is quite funny. Their horror-stricken faces turn slowly around, and I can smell that they are ready to wet their pants. Pathetic. When they see my smirk, they release the breath they had been holding, panting as if they had just done some heavy work. Finally, the brown-haired one gathers his guts to talk to me.

"Man, dude, ya scared us ta death!"

Setting up my scariest face, I decide to have some more fun with those two weaklings.

"That was my intention. Unfortunately, you are still alive though."

Their eyes widen with fear; they stare at me and the brown-haired one starts begging.

"Please, Sir, don't hurt us, we didn't mean it. We are getting out of here as fast as possible, won't we, Rick?"

The other one, even smaller than the brown-haired one, nods fervently, and I wonder how his head still stays on his shoulders. Inside the shelter, I can hear the female stir and get up at the noise. Seems that all the commotion was enough to wake her up.

She pokes her head out of the cabin and looks at the two males that are sitting at my feet. Surprised, she asks:

"Rick? Chris? Is that you?"

They turn around and look at her. I can smell the arousal of them at the sight of the scantily clad female immediately, and a low growl is vibrating in my throat. They don't seem to get the warning though.

"Melissa? Wow, ya look gorgeous like dat! Want ta play wid me?"

I have to keep all my self-control at those words. They remind me of the bastard Aisu-jin. He said almost the same words every time he was going to fuck me. The growling in my throat is getting more intense as I relive my hate for that slimy lizard. I unconsciously power up, and a slight wind is emanating from my form. My fists are clenched, my teeth are gritted, and all my muscles are as tense as coils. All my senses are heightened by my anger, and I am ready for battle. But her voice breaks into my thoughts.

"You wish, Chris. Now get your dick back into your pants and tell me why you are here."

The brown-haired male puffs his chest out, probably to impress her, and starts a whole story of lies.

"Well, Rick an' me, we were sneaking through de brushes, knifes ready, following de trail of a really big buck. De buck was just standin' dere, an' we snuck up behinds him. It had antlers wid 14 ends, imagine dat, a huge beast. I had my knife ready, and wid a huge lunge, I jumped on its back. After a wild ride where I had ta hold on for dear life, I was finally able ta slit its throat. Ya should of seen it, even injured de buck still fought a long time before givin' up. Den, Rick said dat he saw your fire, an' we thought dat we could cook our meat here. Suddenly, we heard a scream, and we hurried ta get here. Dat was where we found him."

With those words, he points to the place where I have stood at moments before. They are such low cowards; they have to impress with lies because they lack skills. The female seems to know that quite well, because she furrows her brows in doubt.

"Really, Chris? Then why are you two so clean, no blood and no scrapes? And why did that scream sound so much like you two? And I doubt that you found Vegeta. I rather think he found you plotting some mischief. And god damn it, stop ogling me, that is disgusting!"

I almost have to laugh at the sullen expression of the two males. They are like children. No, not even children behaved that way on Vegeta-sei. It seems as if the females are the stronger gender of their race, very strange. On Vegeta-sei, it had been the other way round.

Retreating to the darkness again, I leave the woman alone with the two males as she has proven that she can easily handle them. I lean back against a tree and listen to their talking. 

They are all recruits for an army, but it doesn't seem to be an army like the Aisu-jin one from what I have gathered. It is rather an army where everybody, and I mean everybody who wants to, can enter. They never have to fight for their lives, they never get beaten half to death, and they think their conditions are harsh when they have to run a few miles and get yelled at. But what did I expect from such weaklings on such a weak planet?

I sit there listening to them fall asleep, and then I wait. The sounds of the forest become familiar to me, and I am surprised at how much peace this place possesses. On Vegeta-sei, the wilderness was harsh, very hostile, only the strongest survived. And sometimes, not even them. The little water, the very same element that is so abundant here, was very hard to find, and very valuable.

Two thirds of the planet were covered in a boiling hot, red desert, where nothing lived except for a few bugs and other insects. Everything else that dared to stay too long was roasted alive under the heated rays of our bluish-white sun. In this harsh environment, my race developed, bred to be the strongest, fighting for domination, fighting to survive every day of their lives.

The hours are passing while I am recollecting my memories of my home-planet that no longer exists. The night stays dark while I ponder over this weak planet I am stranded on. 

Sometime in the morning hours, before the sun rises, I sense the female stir and get up. She is careful to not wake up the two males that have laid down together with her in the hut, but not too close to her. A slight wince comes from her as she tests her sore muscles, and she walks around the glowing coals. She looks into the darkness as if she was searching for something, but apparently, she can't find it. In a low whisper as to not waken anybody, she calls my name. What does she want now?

"What?", I growl exasperatedly, and she looks over in my direction.

"You said we would share night watch. It is my turn now, so you can rest a little bit."

She doesn't seem to see me because she is staring at a tree two feet besides me. That race seems to have very dull senses and almost no night vision. Shaking my head, I close my eyes. If there was some danger, it is more likely that I would wake up than that she would detect it. 

I am not very tired, but as a warrior, I have learned to get as much sleep as possible at every occasion, because you never know when you will get to rest the next time. Soon, I am in a light slumber where the nightmares I suppress during the day come back to haunt me.

A/N: So, how did you like this chapter? I know, it is a little bit too clean for the heavy rating, but I couldn't think of anything else. Review please!


	3. Nightmare

A/N: This is the longest chapter I have written so far. I couldn't stop any sooner, so I apologize for the long delay, but I couldn't find any place to divide it. The next one probably won't be so long, but I never know in advance. Please tell me which you like better – short or long chapters. Thanks!

**WARNINGS: graphic rape, lots of pain, cussing – do not read if you are easily offended!**

_To Nightscream:_ Thanks a lot! Here is the next chapter!

_To firey queen86:_ sorry, there is still no Bulma in this chapter, but I can assure you, she will be in the next chapter (I already have some parts of it written out)

_To redhead:_ yeah, this is B/V, he will meet her in the next chapter, so don't worry. I don't know why, but this story writes itself, so I couldn't put any B/V in this chapter. Sorry!

_To TK Lavender Kitsune:_ Sickening but great? I guess I will take that as a compliment, because I just reread my first chapter and am surprised at my sick mind (my parents would blow a fuse if they knew what I was writing and ban me from the computer for unlimited time, so hope that they will never find out). Thanks!

_To DBZ Fanfiction Queen: _There you go, this chapter is more, so I hope you are tied over until the next one (which I have no clue when it will come out because I got to work on my other story, too).

Nightmare 

Those bastards. Staring at me as if I was some piece of meat. I hate them. Isn't it bad enough to get beaten by that son of a bitch, but to have everybody witness it? That is the utter humiliation, and I think he knows it. The son of a bitch seems to have made it a task for him to break me, and those official beatings are just another tactic to reach his goal. But I will never yield, I am the Saiyan no ouji!

As if sensing my arrival, the Aisu-jin is turning his attention to me.

"Ah, the monkey has finally arrived!

I hate his girly, slimy voice, and I have to grit my teeth to not retort something I would regret later on. I just remain silent and seething, suffering the laughter of the guests. That bastard is simply too powerful to fight against, but at least I get stronger after every beating I receive. Some day I will have enough power to get my revenge!

 I keep that thought in mind when I feel a steely fist in my gut, making me double over in pain. A kick into my face that was so fast that I never saw it coming sends me sprawling through the room, landing in front of a guest. Shaking my head to get rid of the stars dancing in front of my eyes, I glance up at a blue, fishy face that is grinning down at me maliciously. The fat, ugly alien bubbles happily:

"Weak monkey. Shame to your race of brawny dimwits!"

My rage is growing. It is bad enough that I have to listen to that kind of speeches from Furiza, but from somebody so much weaker than me? I will not allow that soft, fat asshole to insult my race! Hatred starts boiling in my veins as I slowly get up, fixing him with one of my most menacing glares. The fish-person doesn't seem to recognize the danger he is in; he just smiles and taunts me further.

"You can do nothing to me you weak monkey. See, your lord Furiza is calling for his pet!"

With those words, he spits at me some slimy, green goo. It lands in front of my boots, almost touching the tips. That was one step too far. Howling in anger, I release a massive _ki_-blast directly at him. His screams are music for my ears, but sadly he is nothing more than white ashes within a few seconds. The other guests shrink back in fear of me, and they are scared. That will teach them to not insult the Saiyan no ouji. 

I have to congratulate myself at that deed, but soon my satisfaction turns into horror when a high, repulsive voice, that also haunts my dreams, laughs.

"Naughty, naughty. That was an important ambassador from the LeBoda-system. I will have to teach you better manners. As much as I despise them, I can't have you incinerating my guests though."

With those words, I am thrown into a world of agony. Merciless punches rain down on me, bruising, hurting. His first kick breaks a few ribs, but before I can even realize the pain, he is already there and holds my forearm in both of his hands. He is waiting until he has my full attention and until realization dawns in my eyes; then he jerks his hands a little bit and breaks my forearm with a dry snap. I fall to my knees as pain courses through me, gasping desperately for air, but refusing to utter any sound. Just when the brunt of the pain has gone by, he snaps another bone, this time my right shin.

For an almost immeasurable period of time, I stay in a burning hell of agony because the bastard is slowly crippling me and he even takes delight in it. He breaks one bone after the other, always giving me time to recover in between so that my senses register every ounce of pain. Soon, I can't move any more as I am a limp pile of trembling flesh, and my broken tail hurts the most. But that doesn't seem enough for that bastard as he kicks me into my ribs so that I get to lie on my stomach. One of them must have punctured my lung as I have to cough up some blood, and I am half delirious from all the pain.

Just when I have gathered enough strength to try moving despite my broken bones, a searing hot lance runs down my back. My mouth contorts in a silent scream, and all my muscles contract spasmodically. His evil chuckle fills my ears, and it is the only sound that prevails over my agony.

"You like that, don't you?"

Another lance of pain is thrust into my back, burning, searing, and the stench of scorched flesh is filling my nose. My whole world is filled with the fire that is licking at me, making me gradually loose my sanity. I am not aware of the time passing, my whole mind is filled with infinite moments of agony, and I can't tell anymore if I scream or not, and I don't even care anymore. I just want it to stop! Please! 

Just when I am about to jump over the brink into the blackness of unconsciousness, the torture stops. I lie there limp, broken, panting, pained with every breath. Slowly, my mind returns, making me wonder why he has stopped. Usually, he would beat me senseless and leave me on the floor, so why not today?

"That should teach you to not incinerate my guests any more!"

My back is burning horribly, and the stench of my own flesh makes me almost vomit. Stars are dancing in my vision; there is a ringing in my ears, and I desperately beg for the blackness to take me over. But it doesn't seem to be that bastard's will that I could escape him so easily, because suddenly, I can feel his hard, icy flesh at my bare bottom, and it is burning as badly as my back.

What does he want to do? I don't like that one bit, he has never behaved like that before. I can hear his heavy panting, but it doesn't sound as if he was exhausted, so why does he do that? Panic begins to rise in my throat, and I start trembling in fear, having lost all of my self-control during the previous beating.

Suddenly, an agonizing pain is ripping through me as he shoves his icy cold flesh _inside_ me so brutally that muscles tear and my broken bones are painfully ground together. But all the pain is not as horrible as the hard and cold _thing_ inside me. I shiver uncontrollably, whimpering, trying to crawl away from the terrible sensations. Then that bastard talks to me again, his cold breath whispering hoarsely along my ear, his putrid stench reaching my nose.

"Ungh… deliciously tight … but don't run away, my little monkey-boy … we haven't even started yet!"

His cold hand clamps down on my broken shoulder, pressing my rear against him; and then, he starts to move inside me, hurting me more with every thrust. I am too weak to do anything, I can only whimper at every lance of pain that sears coldly through my body, and I can feel the hot blood trickling down my ass. The hard, cold flesh inside me almost feels like an icicle, and it hurts so much, it is so painful … worse than all my broken bones together.

Then, suddenly, he grunts heavily, making a shiver of repulsion run down my spine, and as if that had been a sign, some icy liquid spills into me. His utters one long groan, and grasps me tightly, crushing my battered frame against his icy body with unimaginable force. My bones grind together, and I scream out in pure agony, all my muscles cramping up from the pain.

Some time later, he releases his hold on me, but the hand on my shoulder remains. He removes his now limp flesh with a sick, slippery sound that easily drowns out the boisterous cheers of the crowd. The cold liquid inside me is slowly mingling with my hot blood, dripping to the floor, stinging in my wounds. I feel so humiliated and want nothing more than to escape into the soft, velvet blackness of oblivion that is already dancing promisingly at the edges of my mind.

The icy hand on my shoulder does not leave, it starts shaking me, and everything else vanishes, only the hand remains. From far away, I can hear a soft voice becoming louder by the second. Suddenly, I realize what it is saying.

"Vegeta!"

My eyes shoot open, and my body is reacting without any conscious thoughts of my mind. Within a split-second, I have the one who touched me in a deadly headlock. My heart is racing, and adrenaline is pumping through my veins, an after effect from the horrible nightmare.

Slowly, I find back to reality, and I realize that I am choking the female. Her face is already turning blue from lack of oxygen, and her struggling gets weaker. Quickly, I release her, watching her fall on the ground, and she holds her throat in pain. She is lucky to be still alive, I could have snapped her neck so easily…

Closing my eyes for a moment, I try to get rid of the tumult of feelings that nightmare has left me, to get my self-control back. When I am calm enough again, I open them only to stare into that female's face. She whispers, perhaps afraid of me.

"Bad dream?"

Yeah, I guess you could call it that way. But that was much more than a simple dream. I wish it was one because then I could just forget it; however, this is what took place in my past, and I am haunted by it, no chance for it to be buried in oblivion again. Damn that fucking bastard! 

With a hoarse voice that had tensed up during the nightmare, I warn her:

"Don't ever try touching me again when I am asleep. You are lucky to be alive."

From the rising sun, I gather that I have slept for maybe three, four hours at the most, but that is more than enough for me. I have still the bad after-taste of that dream in my mouth, and I want to get away from them for a while. The two males probably think I haven't discovered them yet, but their stares on my back make me uneasy. Not bothering to turn around, I head towards the forest, calling over my shoulder.

"I go hunting."

Then, I disappear between the trees without a sound, leaving them behind. At first, I just wander around aimlessly, trying to soothe my restless mind by walking. Every time I have that nightmare, I am not back to my usual self for a few hours afterwards. Normally, I would go off to train then and suffocate those thoughts by pounding myself senseless, but I can't do that here. They are so pathetically weak here that they could never imagine what I am capable of, and I don't want to cause a stir. Instead, I focus completely on the hunt, forcing myself to enjoy the tracking of my prey.

Within a few minutes, I have caught sight of the animal I have been following, and I study it. It runs on four legs, but they are not as thick and sturdy as the ones of the bear. Instead, they are longer and more gracile; its whole body is built for speed and agility rather than for brute strength. It is covered in reddish-brown fur, it has hooves, and some strange twigs are sticking out of its head. It is looking around carefully, then it lowers its head to the ground and bites off some of the small green plants that cover the clearing. It obviously is an herbivore, probably the prey of those bears. And if that bear should be able to eat it, my alimentary system can digest it as well.

I close in from downwind, and before it can react, I have already grabbed its head and snapped its neck with a quick jerk of my hands. This time, I eat my fill where I have killed the animal, not wanting to hear any comments on how disgusting my eating habits are. Sparing only one of its rear legs, I deem it enough for the two males and the female as I have seen how little they eat. I never had imagined that anybody could survive on so little food.

I carry it back to the camp, not bothering with incinerating the rest of the carcass. I don't care if any predator finds the bones and the innards I have left, but I make sure that they can't follow my trail to the camp. 

I have no clue why I even bother with those weaklings, but I think if I want to learn more about this planet, it would be best to have some 'guides'. Of course, I could always set out on my own, but who knows how those weaklings are going to react, and I want to get this damned chip out as soon as possible. I will probably be very weak afterwards, and during my healing, I can't protect me myself properly. No, it is better to help them now, and with their honor code, they are bound to do me a favor later on.

As I near the clearing, I can already hear them talking animatedly; the male called Rick seems to be telling another one of his stories. I close in on them hidden by the shelter I have made, and when I am almost able to touch them, the female asks:

"Hey, did you hear something?"

The males are listening, and I am deathly quiet, wanting to see if they can detect me. For heaven's sake, the wind blows my scent exactly towards them, and they should at least be able to pick up the smell of food. When the brown-haired male finally answers, I am stunned at so much incapacity.

"Nah, I hear nothin'. Pro'bly just a fuckin' rabbit."

Rabbit? I guess that a rabbit is something harmless considering that they are not scared at all. Do they even know what their noses are for? Or are their senses so underdeveloped? I know that their night-vision isn't as good as mine, but that their senses are that bad, I can't actually believe. They probably have never learned how to use what they've got. Pathetic.

Stepping out from behind the hut, I growl:

"Just a fuckin' rabbit, eh? That fuckin' rabbit could have killed you before you even knew what happened."

They look up at me in shock, not quite knowing what to say. Snorting, I let the meat drop to the ground in front of them and retreat to 'my' tree. Sitting down, I watch them and pretend that I can't hear their whispering. They are probably deaf, too.

"How did he do that, man, I never heard him move!"

"Yeah dude, and how can he be back so fast? I didn't saw him carry a weapon, but he's back in under 'n hour!"

"I don't know, guys, but he found me yesterday, and there he killed a bear with his bare hands. The bear didn't hear him either…"

The two males look doubtfully at her, picking up their knives to cut the meat into smaller pieces while the female who is wearing the jacket of one of the males, is starting the fire again. Hesitantly, the smaller male continues the conversation.

"Hey, man, yesterday when we walked to tha' fire, we didn't hear him either. Ya think he's one of tha' special forces? The way he's jumped when Melissa touched him says he knows how ta kill."

"Yeah, right dude, den why do ya dink he's here bodering wid us green recruits?"

"Don't know, man, lookin' tha' we don't get killed?"

Shrugging their shoulders, they proceed to roast the meat. 

So there are some stronger examples of their pathetic race. Special forces? Doesn't sound that bad. They seem to have a lot of reputation. Perhaps I could use them to make me more inconspicuous. If I have to integrate into their society, I could join this group because it sounds as if they had a high priority, thus they probably have the best access to technology and other supplies. I will have to think about it.

Soon, the scent of roasting meat wafts through the clearing, and a while later, the female calls that 'breakfast' was ready. Do they have to find a new word for everything they have? On that bastard's base, we only were allowed to get food twice a day, and nobody bothered to find names for the two meal times.

The two males immediately join her at the fire, but she refuses to let them eat. Instead, she looks over at me and asks me if I also want some. I shake my head in disgust; firstly, I already had my fill, and secondly, I don't socialize with weaklings. But that will become awfully hard when I am supposed to integrate into their society. I will have to get used to them sooner or later.

She is starting to try to convince me of joining them when something is nagging at the back of my mind, and I grow stiff. The female who is still looking at me seems to notice that and immediately shushes. I concentrate on the evasive feeling. Something is not right here, the sounds of the forest have changed almost imperceptibly. Those flying creatures aren't tweeting or chirping any more, they are rather screaming warnings. Then, I hear some leaves rustling, and it sounds as if something big was stealthily moving through the forest. 

Silently, I get up and disappear between the brushes, trying to find the intruder. Quietly, I round the clearing, keeping my senses open for any information. There, a whiff of a sweaty, male humanoid in his prime. Now that I know what I am looking for, I can clearly hear him creep over the ground, remarkably quiet for his species. But we are still more than fifty yards away from the clearing, and I have already detected him.

Using my skills as a hunter, I stalk him from behind. He has focused all of his attention on the clearing, and he doesn't seem to bother with his immediate surroundings. He also wears pants and a shirt like the one the other three have been wearing, all camouflage colors, but he has covered his fair skin in mud and he is clearly better at moving soundlessly. He is probably no part of that survival group, so I wonder why he is here then.

Deciding to get some answers, I silently appear behind him and grab the back of his jacket, hoisting him into the air, and immobilize him completely within a split second. I was careful to not use too much of my strength lest I killed him, but he still moans in pain. Ignoring his discomfort, I start asking.

"Who are you and what do you want here?"

He stiffens a little bit, but seems to get over his shock fairly well, and answers in the precise, military way that I have gotten used to over the past twelve years of my life.

"Sergeant Miller, Sir, my task is to return all recruits to base camp!"

Sergeant? Is that a title or a name? Miller? And Sir? It would be better for his health if those weren't insults. But for now, I ignore those words, determined to finally get some useful information.

"Then why are you sneaking around?"

"I got orders to test the attention of the recruits as well as practice my stealth-technique, Sir!"

I have learned to never trust anybody who is even remotely dangerous, so I let him dangle from the scruff of his jacket and carry him at arm-length to the fire. At first, he struggles for a while, but then he surrenders to my tight grip. When I return to the fire, the three humanoids, that are eating the meat, jump up and salute the male that I hold. He seems to be part of their army and he apparently has a higher rank than them. Nevertheless, I want to make sure.

"You know him?"

The female still has not moved from her attention position, but answers.

"Yes, Sir. This is our trainer Sergeant Miller. He is assigned to our squad of recruits."

Without hesitation, I drop the male to the ground and walk towards the tree I have come to call 'my' tree. I pretend that I don't notice their stares in my back, and I settle down, seemingly not paying attention to their talking.

"Move, recruits, no formalities needed here!"

The three humanoids relax and return to their meal. 'Sir' seems to be some title of respect, and 'Sergeant Miller' is either the rank or the name of the male I have found. At the moment, he is talking to the female. 

"Private Smith, you seem to be injured. What happened?"

"Sir, I ran into a bear, and it bit me several times. Vegeta who brought you here has taken care of my injuries and he has bandaged them. They hurt, but not so much that I couldn't walk anymore. Do you want to join us for breakfast, Sir?"

The leader eyes the roasting meat wearily.

"And just where did you find that meat?"

They look at each other, then the brown-haired male answers, surprisingly without accent.

"Sir, we didn't find it. That guy brought it to us about an hour ago. He gave us a whole rear leg of a buck that was till warm and the blood was not clotted yet, so I guess he freshly killed it. Without any weapons, unless he has hidden some away. Sir, do you know that man?"

The sergeant shakes his head.

"No, but he is good. I was really quiet, but he snuck upon me without making a sound, and he immobilized me before I could react. Then he carried me more than 50 yards with one hand, and I weigh a lot. Perhaps a member of a special unit. He seems to know you, where did you meet him?"

The female who is listening intently, answers the question with furrowed eyebrows.

"Yesterday. A bear was attacking me, and he came out of nowhere and killed it. Afterwards, he tended to my wounds. But, did you say 50 yards, Sir?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Sir, do you think you could be heard from 50 yards?"

Now, the sergeant furrows his eyebrows, too. Damn it, perhaps I was a little bit too suspicious, their hearing seems to be really bad.

"I don't think I would hear myself from twenty yards."

"Well, Sir, he hard you from that tree he is currently sitting at, and his attention was focused on me. He went rigid, and then, he disappeared into the forest without a sound. A few minutes later, he came back together with you."

"He must have got one hell of good hearing, and additionally some heavy training. He is probably listening to us right now."

They all send nervous glances at me, and the smaller male whispers almost in awe.

"Wow, man, I thought those guys were only in movies! Rambo, or Schwarzenegger!"

„Well, he is a good example of what humans are capable of."

I have to snort. No, I am definitely not a 'human', and it irks me that they dare to call me one of their pathetic race. But, on the other hand, I can't tell them now that I am from another planet. 

What am I going to do? Come with them to their base? Follow them in secrecy? And what about the chip? I will have to get rid of it sometime. And that should better be now, when the female still remembers her debt towards me. Making a quick decision, I walk over to their camp and look at the female. Harshly, I demand:

"Come with me."

Without any question, she gets up and follows me until I think that we are out of hearing range from the males. I abruptly turn around and ask her gruffly, because I am not good at making conversation. I have learned how to kill and how to survive, but not how to talk.

"Do you get sick at the sight of blood?"

She shakes her head reluctantly and asks "Why?"

I ignore her question completely and growl.

"Go back, get a knife, and meet me at the lake."

She stares oddly at me. What is she thinking with that underdeveloped brain of hers?

"Can I trust you?"

That is indeed a strange response that defies every bit of logic. If she was afraid that I would do something to her, the answer to her question would not be satisfying as I could lie. If she is not afraid of me, then this question is pointless. Nobody has ever asked me that before.

"Yes. What is more important: Can I trust you?"

She is clearly surprised and seems at a loss of words. Probably not what she expected. I didn't expect that either; it seems that her stupidity is rubbing off on me. I can see the wheels in her mind turning as she combines the information. After several minutes which I wait impatiently, she is finally able to answer me hesitantly.

"Yes, you can trust me. How long is it going to take?"

She probably hasn't understood yet, but she has agreed. Very good. I shrug my shoulders.

"Depends on how fast you find it. Something between ten minutes and two hours."

Nodding once, she turns around and heads back to the fire. As soon as she is out of my sight, I go to the lake, hoping that I have done the right thing. The mere thought of being vulnerable is terrifying, and I won't be at my full strength for several days afterwards. But she is indebted towards me, so she won't try anything. She has an honor code after all, doesn't she?

Doubt begins to rise in my throat, and that is not good. If she is to remove the chip, I have to trust her completely and let my defenses down. Otherwise she will never be able to harm even a hair on my body. I don't know if I have made a mistake, but it is too late now. My pride is not going to allow me to back out of the deal, so I can only go forwards in hope that it won't kill me.

I can hear her breaking through the brushes, and I get up to find her. When she sees me, she nods and goes to my side. I can see that she has the knife with her, and some strips of cloth, too. I am glad that she doesn't ask any unnecessary questions but jumps to the topic immediately.

"What am I supposed to find?"

"A chip. It has been implanted somewhere beneath my sternum, so I can't find it on my own. It will be your task to locate it and get it out."

Her eyes darken.

"Why has it been implanted?"

I can feel that everything depends on that one question. If I answer it the wrong way, she won't help me, and without her help, I can't get the chip out. Carefully, I look for the correct words.

"So that the bastard can keep track of me. I have escaped, and I don't want him to find me."

"Who is he?"

Shit, I can't tell her about Furiza, she might think me a lunatic as this shitty planet has never even heard of other races. What else could I tell her? Something that will provoke a lot of emotion within her. But what could that be? Suddenly, an idea pops up in my mind.

"You saw the scars on my back?"

She nods, eyebrows still furrowed. I continue in hope that I will convince her.

"He made them. Each and everyone. That bastard has …"

Trembling with anger, I cut off in mid-sentence. I am never able to speak of that son of a bitch without being shaken by rage and hatred. One day, I will kill him for what he has done. I will have the ultimate revenge for my people, and nobody will hold me back. That fucking lizard will pay…

A soft hand touches my arm and throws me back into reality. I react on instinct and prepare a vicious blow for the one who dared to touch me. Luckily for her, I can control myself just in time before I hit her; she would have had at least a broken arm if I hadn't stopped. I don't think she has any idea at what danger she has just been in as she merely stands besides me, completely unfazed, and looks down at her feet, whispering:

"Sorry for asking. But I had to make sure that I didn't help a criminal escape."

What are criminals? She talks of them as if they were bad. Are those 'criminals' some sub-species of their race? And they keep track of them with chips? Their technology must be quite advanced, perhaps I can get off this pathetic mud-ball after all. That gives me some new hope, I couldn't accept the fact that I should become old and die on such a weak planet. Not wanting to expose my sudden mood change, I grunt:

"Are you going to do it or not?"

She nods determinedly, and her eyes are blazing.

"Yes. Nobody deserves that. I hope you can escape him forever. But are you sure you want to do that right here? I have no medical experience, and it will hurt a lot. Heck, I could kill you unintentionally!"

"Pain is not an issue. The sooner the chip is out the better. And you will do no such thing as killing me."

"But I don't know anything about doing surgery, the only thing I do know is that the surroundings have to be as sterile as possible to prevent an infection!"

"My immune system is strong enough to kill any bacteria or virus, and you will just have to look for the chip. The rest I will do myself."

She looks at me in doubt, but doesn't complain any more. I remove my shirt and lie down on the stone where I have already treated her wounds. Curiously, I watch her as she goes down to the lake and wets a piece of cloth. Is that some kind of ritual she has to perform for some reason?

She comes back to me and wipes the skin of my chest clean. Ah, I think she wants to get the dirt away to have 'sterile surroundings'. The wet cloth feels cold against my skin, and I have to suppress a shiver. I already told her that I am not so weak that simple bacteria or viruses would faze me. I don't know if I should feel insulted, but finally, I decide to give in to her ministrations and let the tension go out of my body.

The touch of her hands is as feathery and light as the caresses of Radditz during that special night, and I can feel the soothing heat of the stone beneath me. A cool breeze is playing around me, petting me, ruffling my hair. Closing my eyes, I relax and let the warmth of the sun invade every pore of my body, enjoying the feeling of her soft hands against my bare skin. Her voice is quiet, but full of tension as she wipes over my body.

"Here is the knife. I don't think I can do that myself, so you have to do it. I know that I am weak, but I will do my best and try to not get sick. Is that enough for you?"

Sleepily, I grunt a yes, concentrating on relaxing as far as possible so that the knife will penetrate my skin. Its handle is cold and heavy in my hand, and some deep instinct of self-preservation tries to stop me. But with only a small exertion of will-power, I rest it an inch under my sternum, trying to find the right place. Then I press down forcefully, always careful to not injure any important organs. 

There is one good thing that my years of training under Furiza have taught me: how to control pain. I have been beaten and tortured virtually every day; I have been injured to the brink of death and been left alone to suffer for countless hours. During that time, my already high pain tolerance has been increased a thousandfold, and I am able to stay relaxed despite the agony raging above my stomach.

"Now look if you can find the chip."

She approaches me hesitantly, gagging slightly at the sight, but she doesn't spill the contents of her stomach. She softly touches the skin around my self-inflicted wound, but stops there. I growl impatiently. Perhaps it has been a mistake to trust her.

            "Get on with it or do you want to leave me now?"

She swallows audibly, and her face gets a green hue. She opens her mouth to talk, but nothing comes out. After clearing her throat several times, she has finally found her voice again.

            "Erh… no … but I have never done something like that before, and I don't want to hurt you …"

She doesn't want to hurt me. Is that a joke? How does she expect to survive in an army if she can't hurt or kill her enemies?

            "Look, I didn't make that gash for nothing. You can either go on or leave me to do it myself, but choose fast. I don't want to be here forever!"

She throws her head up indignantly and with anger. Determination fills her eyes, and she seems to steel herself for the task. Perhaps she is not as weak as I have perceived her to be, because she reaches for the bloody knife with a steady hand and starts to look in my wound.

Secretly, I am glad that she chose to do it, as I probably wouldn't have had any chance of finding the chip myself. I could only have felt around for it, and the chance of finding it that way is very small. Relaxing, I let her do the work. The smell of my blood penetrates the air and makes it sweet and heavy. It mingles with the scent of the trees, the warm stone, and the cold lake; and this heady, spicy mixture is almost lulling me asleep despite the pain. 

Warmth. Nice and warm. Warm stone, warm sun, warm blood. 

On that bastard's main base, it had always been cold; the cold metal, the air-conditioning, and the planet itself was covered in ice. The bastard himself: Always icy cold when he is outside me or inside me; he has a cold and cruel soul in an icy body.

But now, the warmth is penetrating my muscles, heating my skin, and even the hot pain is almost comfortable. I am much more relaxed than I have ever been on that bastard's base or in any spacepod, and my breathing is deep and even. Sometimes, she uses one of the strips of cloth to pat away blood that is blocking her sight. She presses it down with a soft, gentle touch on my overly sensitive flesh, and it reminds me very much of that one night. With an almost purr-like vibration in my throat, I ask contently:

"Can you already see it?"

She flinches, and the knife in my chest lurches a little bit, dangerously close to an artery.

"Be quiet, you scared me. That could cost you your life. Do you know what exactly the chip looks like?"

Thinking back, I am trying to remember. I was only seven years old when they had implanted it, and I was much too scared to remember any details. I only know that there had been four aliens, one had held my legs, two my arms and shoulders, and the fourth one had cut my skin open to implant the chip. 

That had been my first encounter with pain that didn't come from fighting. I had thrashed around wildly, and I had screamed, but they were too strong. My already high pain tolerance had forced me to stay awake during the whole procedure, and when they released me, I bolted out of the room as fast as I could, leaving a bloody trail on the floor.

Weeks afterwards, I had nightmares about that incident. I could feel the burning agony deep insides me while I couldn't move, and I always woke up with my muscles completely cramped up and a bad taste in my mouth. What did the chip look like? My memory refuses to tell me that detail, but the pain had felt stronger, more in the center of my body. Thinking about it, I answer her.

"I don't know exactly. Probably not bigger than my thumbnail. And its location is deeper down."

Then she goes back to her work, and I let myself become entranced by the warm sunshine and the thick scent again. I don't know how much time has passed, but her smooth and quiet voice interrupts my day-dreaming.

"Vegeta? Are you awake?"

I grunt an affirmation over the pain that has become deeper, more difficult to ignore. It is a hot lance that has dug itself down to the core of my being, burning, searing, wanting to cloud my mind. She continues quickly, sensing my agony.

"I have found the chip. It has grown into some muscle that is constantly moving, so I can't get it out."

It feels as if she hadn't cut through my diaphragm yet, so I guess that muscle isn't  my heart. That would have caused a lot of problems. Still, a muscle that is moving despite my relaxed state is probably controlled by my vegetative nervous system and important for survival. After some thinking, she tells me.

"I think it is your diaphragm. You will have to stop breathing for a while so that I can cut the chip out. How long can you hold your breath?"

Well, I am glad that it is not some other muscle that I can't stop for some time without causing severe damage to my body. The period of time I can stop my breath is limited though, and she will have to work fast to get it done before I have to exhale again. Pain is shooting through me as every heave of my chest moves the wound and makes the edges grind together, but I grit my teeth and talk calmly.

"Up to twenty minutes. But at the moment I guess not more than seven or eight minutes. Enough?"

"That will have to suffice. I will start working as soon as you are ready."

I take in a deep breath, exhale it quickly, and then inhale as much air as possible, ignoring the searing agony with every breath. Tightly shutting my mouth and my nose, I start living from the oxygen stored in my lungs and my veins alone. 

It is a strange feeling when somebody works on your diaphragm, almost as if you had the constant urge to cough or hiccup. I have to concentrate hard to suppress the reflex of contraction that is almost triggered by the prodding of the tip of the knife, and sweat is starting to form on my forehead. It is very exhausting to stay calm and relaxed when every fiber of your being tells you to move, get away from the pain, do something; but I ruthlessly suppress those instincts.

A few minutes later, she whispers slowly.

"It is free now. Hold your breath just a little bit longer, then I can get it out. By the way, what are you going to do with that wound? No, don't answer me, you should hold your breath. I don't have a needle, nor would I know how to stitch a wound; all I can do is wrap some cloth around it and hope that it will stop bleeding. Ok, I got it now, you can breathe again."

She has been talking the whole time she was trying to get the chip out, and that has given me a good distraction from the stinging pain. I still think this female is pathetic, but not as brainless as the males back at the camp-fire. Perhaps it won't be that bad to meet more of those 'humans'. Reaching a hand out to her, I demand rather friendly:

"Give me the chip … please."

Wordlessly, she hands me the small, black, blood encrusted square and continues to wipe the blood away from my stomach. I stare at the tiny piece of technology, and angrily crush it between my fingers. Now nobody will be able to find me. Inaudibly sighing with relief, I lie back and let her clean all the blood away, enjoying the soft sensations that pose strong opposition to the throbbing pain. 

From how strong I still feel, I gather that I didn't loose a lot of blood, maybe only an eighth or a tenth of my blood-volume. That is not much; at 30% blood loss it would become dangerous, and with everything more than 50% only a regen-tank could help. At 70% blood-loss, you are as good as dead, but I have already survived such a situation. Twice. I prefer to not remember them.

I am panting heavily, trying to control the pain, while she wraps the cloth lightly around my chest. The bandages are immediately colored red from the fresh blood, and I have to growl at her to secure them more tightly. Perhaps she is not as intelligent as I thought. She doesn't know anything about dressing wounds, because then she would not hesitate to cause a little bit more pain in order to staunch the blood-flow.

When she is done, I sit up slowly to get used to the lightheaded feeling of blood-loss. I carefully slip in the spandex top again, and the added pressure staunches the bleeding to the point that there is no danger of bleeding to death any more. With every step, a sharp pain rips through my stomach as I had to cut some of my abdominal muscles to get to the chip, but I have fought with much heavier injuries before so that shouldn't hinder me from moving. 

But she doesn't look as if she could cover great distances because she is deathly pale and limps heavily, favoring her right leg, the one without the bite mark. She should have healed sufficiently by now, so what is wrong with her? 

I don't say anything but motion for her to sit down on the warm stone that has small spots of my blood on it. I unwrap the bandage on her thigh to check on her injury, and I can't believe that it still looks as bad as yesterday. The wound is neither infected nor does the flesh smell rotten, so what is the matter?

Finally, I decide that it is their nature. They seem to be heavily susceptible for infection, so why shouldn't it take them forever to recover from injuries? 

Dipping the cloth into the lake, I clean it from all the dried blood and sterilize it again with my _ki_, rewrapping the wound tightly so that the skin can close itself. She hisses in pain, but doesn't say anything. Next, I check on the rest of her scratches, and I am not very pleased to see that only the smallest ones have healed. With such a slow healing rate, they probably die from the most simple illnesses, and it is a miracle that their race isn't already extinct. 

Shaking my head, I get up and walk back towards the camp. I can hear clearly that she follows behind me, stumbling through the vegetation. A few minutes later, we arrive at the camp-site, just in time to see Sergeant Miller drag two more human males out of the brushes. 

What the hell is the matter with this place, those humans are multiplying faster than you can blink and they even come in different colors! But it is quite interesting to see that at least some of them have a skin as dark as mine; that means that I won't stand out that much. 

Still, why does everybody in this god-forsaken forest come here? I hope that they can care for themselves, because I am neither a baby-sitter nor a fucking nanny!! Growling viciously, I demand to know where those two came from. The Sergeant answers for them.

"Sir, they are two other members of my squad and they say they have just tripped over this place accidentally. One of them needs medical attention immediately, he has a badly fractured shin. Could you please help him as you seem to be a professionally trained medic?"

Pheh, professionally trained medic my ass. That is just fucking great. Just what I thought. Now I am a nurse and a nanny in one person. I already regret helping that puny female, it would have been a lot less trouble to just let her die and kill everybody else. I am the Saiyan no ouji, not a doctor! But perhaps I can get out of this.

"How far is your base-camp?"

"About five miles."

Damn. This distance isn't a big problem for me, but judging by those humans' small power, the female probably won't be able to make it, and the injured male will have to be lucky to cover half the distance. I guess I will have to play doctor again. 

Grumbling to myself, I walk over to the wounded male who is lying on the ground and I inspect his wound. The whole front of his shin is a bloody mess with a sharp splinter of white bone having broken sticking through the skin. He is lucky that no artery has been severed, otherwise he would already be dead. I will have to splint his leg if he is supposed to walk five miles, and it better be a damned good cast, otherwise he will never get far.

I set out into the woods and come back with two straight sticks a while later. None of them has moved from their spot, only the dark-skinned male is now sitting besides the injured human and talking to him in a low voice. When I want to bend down to the wound, the dark-skinned male jumps up, takes my hand and starts babbling.

"Thanks so much for helping Dustin, he really is in a lot of pain, and he can't move, and I thought he had to die out there, I am really glad that we found you, and that you can help him, I don't want to loose Dustin, …"

Will that human ever finish his monstrous run-on sentence? After a minute of his worthless babbling, I have enough and roar angrily. 

"Shut up! He won't die because of a broken leg, and soldiers have to be able to bear a little bit of pain! Now you have two possibilities: Either you are quiet and learn something or you get the hell out of here! Understood!?!"

"Yes, Sir!"

He shrinks back and retreats a little bit in fear. At least he is quiet now, I couldn't stand his annoying voice. I hope that not all humans are as talkative as him, otherwise I will have to find another way of living here. 

With a swift move, I rip off the bloodied pants' leg just over his knee. The shin is swollen badly and has an ugly black and blue color, but at least the flesh doesn't smell rotten yet, so the injury can't have been more than a week ago. Careful to not make the fracture worse, I feel around for any splinters. Every time I touch his skin, the male screams in agony, and my ears start hurting. 

Really, either he can be quiet or have at least the decency to fall unconscious, but no, he has to scream right into my sensitive ears. I think it was a mistake to land on Sol 3, I would have been better off looking for any other planet to land on. Fed up with all that noise, I reach up and pinch a few nerves on his neck, hoping that it will work on his anatomy, and suddenly, he is quiet.

"Wha…? How did ya do that? Did you kill him!?!"

With an impatient jerk of my hand, I reach up to the dark-skinned human and pinch the exact same nerves of his neck. I think he didn't even see my move, because his eyes are only a little bit surprised, then he slumps over unconsciously. Finally they are quiet, they were on the best way of giving me a tremendous headache.

My nimble fingers finish the examination of the fracture, and then I reset the bone. A small tug on his foot makes the free end disappear under his skin; and because he is lucky and it is a clean fracture, the two bone ends meet without any problems.

Bandaging the wound with some cloth of his pair of pants, I look around for some more rags to make a cast. I finally decide that the dark-skinned male won't need his jacket, and rip it apart. Quickly and with countless years of practice, I tie the two sticks tightly to his leg so that the fracture can't move any more. 

I pay special attention to the part above the fracture, so he should be able to put at least part of his weight on the injured leg as the make-shift cast will serve as an exoskeleton, removing any pressure from the bone. It still will hurt though until the bone is healed, but the leg can be used without causing further damage to the wound. 

Slowly, I get up, minding my own injuries, and walk away from the two unconscious males. They are going to wake up soon enough, and I have no intention of accelerating the process. Deciding that I won't go with them, I turn towards their leader.

"As soon as they wake up, you are going back to your base camp."

"But Dustin can't walk with his broken leg!"

"Yes, he can. He should be able to cover the five miles."

The short male buts in on our conversation.

"Why can't we make a stretcher for him?"

A stretcher? What the hell is that? Sounds like some instrument of torture to me. But their leader seems to find it a good idea and starts to cut off two strong limbs of a tree. Then, he ties them together with his jacket, and the other two males give up their jacket, too. It looks rather ridiculous and it is completely unfunctional if it really is what it seems to be. The leader barks out orders.

"Private Tucker, Private Henders, put Private Jonson on the stretcher. Move!"

"Yes, Sir!"

They both salute their superior and take the hideous contraption with them. They lay it down on the ground next to the injured male so that the two sticks are about two feet apart. Together, they have to strain to lift him up so far that they can lay him on the three jackets that connect the two sticks. I can't believe it how weak they are. They can't even properly lift a weight as small as their own. 

Finally, they have settled the male between the two branches, and they pick them up, lifting the injured male from the ground in the process. I think I was right to guess that it should be a portable bed, but it doesn't fulfil its task properly. The injured male is jostled around with every step, his head lolls limply from side to side, and sometimes his wounded leg bumps against some tree roots or the ground. He could fall off any moment, and his position looks completely uncomfortable. I think this is one of the worst ways of carrying an injured person. I would rather walk on two broken legs than be tortured by such a misconstructed apparatus. 

The human commander addresses me formally and with quite a bit of respect as if he finally realized that I was his superior.

"Sir, would you please come to base-camp with us? Two of us are injured, and in the wilderness that is dangerous. We could use a man with your abilities."

No, I won't accept his offer to go with those annoying, constantly babbling humans to a place where there are even more of them. I think was mad when I had that idea of joining their 'special forces', I would get nothing more than a tremendous headache from their talking. But just as I start to refuse the request, the female speaks up.

"Sergeant Miller, you are wrong. We have three injured people. Vegeta is wounded the worst of us all, and he has lost a great deal of blood."

Pheh, a great deal of blood. Compared to how bad I usually looked after a 'monkey session', this is nothing. I swear, if one of those puny humans would prick their finger, they would already scream that they were bleeding to death.

"Really, you don't seem hurt to me, and I can't detect any signs of excessive blood-loss. Anyways, if it is true what Private Smith says, you have to come with us to get some proper medical treatment. I won't deny that you are very skilled in treating wounds, but they still might get infected."

Shit, now I have to go with them; the female sounded as if she didn't take 'no' as an answer. She would nag around so long until I would finally give in and have a tremendous headache from her high, screeching voice. Reluctantly, I give in.

It is really surprising how their bodies can't even defeat simple bacteria or viruses. How pathetic. Additionally, they heal awfully slow. The bitemarks of the woman would have been mere scrapes on my body after a good night's rest, but they still look almost fresh to me. How long is it going to take to heal broken bones then? A month? I could almost pity them, but it is their own fault.

Grumbling angrily to myself, I decide to get it over with as soon as possible. I walk over to the dark-skinned male who is still unconscious, and when nobody looks at me, I wake him up with a short electrical burst of my _ki_. It is funny to see how his already curly hair suddenly puffs out and triples in volume, and he sits up and rubs the spot where I had touched him. Before he can say anything though, I snap at him in a very foul mood.

"Get up! We are leaving."

Turning around abruptly, I leave him and go back to the other group. When their leader sees us, he only nods and disappears between the brushes, apparently expecting us to follow him. The woman immediately limps after him, leaning heavily on a stick that she uses like a crutch. The two males with the 'stretcher' follow, making the trip as painful as possible for the injured human. 

The dark-skinned male is surprisingly silent, but I don't want to take any chances, so I let him go first, making me the taillight. I quickly slip on my weighted armor that I have discarded yesterday. Never would I leave a piece of Saiyan technology behind, but it makes me realize painfully that I still have a fresh wound on my chest. Ignoring the complaints of my body, I put out the fire which was still glowing, then I follow them, prepared for a few long hours of walking.

After maybe half an hour, the unconscious male wakes up, and like I have predicted, he sooner wants to walk than to suffer that kind of torture. He has been dropped a few times, and his head was banged on fallen logs a few times, so I completely understand his decision. He now uses one of the bars of the stretcher as a crutch and limps through the forest. But he slows us down even more, so I guess those five miles will take us a hell of a lot more than three hours.

Grumbling, I trail behind. Really, it would be a lot faster if I just flew there, but I guess I can't do that as well as I can't show them my tail. From what I have seen so far of them, they would freak out, and my chance of being inconspicuous would be gone like smoke out of a window. That is fucking great, and I am not even sure why I care and why I don't just blast all of them to hell. Damn it!

A/N: So, how did you like it? When you review, please tell me if you like long chapters like this one better than the shorter chapters 1&2, or if you want to have even shorter chapters than those (not more than 3000 words). Thank you!


	4. First Meeting

A/N: Hey, it's me again! Finally, I've got another chapter done! Please don't hold me responsible for any mistakes I have made on the military and the medical stuff, I know nearly nothing about it. But I would be glad if you could point them out to me. Most people have said that they would like to have chapters longer than 2500 words, but that they would rather have shorter chapters than waiting longer. Well, I have decided to make the chapters about 5000-6000 words long as I can never find an end once I start writing. 

But that also means that you will have to wait longer, especially now that I am thinking on how to make a love story without getting the characters OOC and with out being too sappy or having too much fluff (I hate those). If you've got any ideas, please tell me, I am almost desperate for some.

I have been asked to start a mailing list, so if you want to know when I bring out a new chapter or a new story, leave your e-mail address in your review or write me a short mail.

**WARNINGS:**** SLIGHT CUSSING, HINTED RAPE, SOME BLOOD **

To fiery queen86: Thank you, enjoy this one

To otaku: Thanks, I have written this story because I have been fed up with all those countless stories that are set in 'those three years' (there are some good ones, but this theme has been thoroughly overused)

To DBZ Fanfiction Queen: Yeah, I hate those stories where you have more chapters than words. Don't worry, the chapters will be quite long.

To Kuroooujo: I have been trying very hard, but I just can't get chapters out very fast. I admire those authors who update their stories every few days, but I just can't do that (I also have a life outside the computer). And yes, this is going to be a B/V, I just don't know yet how exactly they are going to get involved.

To TigerWolf: Thank you, and yes, there is a lot of AU to Bulma (I don't like how she is portrayed as the rich, snobby brat from CC in some fanfics)

To Arin Ross: I have been trying very hard to imagine what somebody from another planet with a completely different culture would think of earth, and I am glad that you think I have succeeded.

To Mistress Belial: Thank you! Finally somebody who knows that you can't rush writing!

To SESwing: Yeah, the last chapter was a pain in the butt, but I just couldn't stop sooner. And yes, Bulma is going to be there, she makes her entrance in this chapter. For the rest: look to the response To Arin Ross (I am too lazy typing that again)

First meetings 

I hate that bastard who calls himself my 'father'. He has been anything else than a father to me; he has been the president of CC, he has been my teacher, he has been my manager, and he is the one who has 'made love' to me repeatedly. He has 'invited' me into his bedroom several times, and then he has done things to me I would rather not remember. Really, you would think such an intelligent man had at least respect from his own flesh and blood, but since my mother has died, he has closed himself off and gradually, he became the heartless bastard he is today.

Why I didn't go to the police immediately after that first time?

I don't know. I was ashamed. I felt humiliated. I was afraid what he would do to me. I didn't want to seem weak. And who would believe me that the most important man on this planet has touched me in … private places? There are so many women out there who would gladly trade places with me if they got half of the 'special attention' I received from him. 

That is why I have signed a contract with the army for three years. I had to get away from that bastard's constant supervising, molesting, and abusing. Here, he can't follow me – or at least I hope that he can't. Who knows what he could achieve by using the full weight of his title of 'Founder and President of Capsule Corporation'. The most surprising thing is that he let me leave to begin with. I really don't understand his motives, but I am glad that he is out of my life for now.

Walking over to the first bed of the many white ones that are lined up against the wall, I start checking on my patients. Private Anderson had caught a bullet in his left hip, an accident at the shooting booth. The surgery was clean and easy, and he should wake up from the anesthetics soon.

Private McCarty got a mild concussion and a broken arm when he fell off one of the climbing walls. He had managed to land head first, but luckily the wall had not been too high.

The next one, Private Furgusson, has a bad cold and a temperature of 103°. She came here only an hour ago because she collapsed during a field exercise. 

Checking on every patient in the medical ward, I do the work that allows me to escape my father. I have chosen to be an army surgeon because that is one of the fields I have some experience in. They also would have accepted me as a weapons engineer (did you think the daughter of a man like my father would know nothing about technology?), but then I would have had to keep working together with that bastard. The job as a soldier was also out of consideration, because I would have never been able to make it through the harsh training on day one. So I went into the medical ward. 

Work has been quite hard so far, many hours a day, very often night shift, and not a lot of money as I am not the head surgeon, but all of that is better than being with my father. Here, I am not happy, but at least I am not unhappy any more. That is more than I can say about my previous life.

The door opens, and a fellow surgeon of mine, Doctor Jack Martens, enters the ward and hurries towards me. He is a great guy that I have befriended on my first day here. I had been scared and very unsure of myself, and he had taken me under his wing immediately and showed me the ropes. His only problem is that he doesn't like to see naked women. He always gets a nosebleed then, and so I usually take his female patients.

            "Bulma, please come with me to the front gate, a group of recruits on survival training has returned and a few of them are injured. I will need your help."

Nodding in acknowledgement, I follow him out of the building. On both sides of us, there are other teams of recruits doing push-ups, their morning jog, practicing how to move in lockstep, but I have gotten so used to the sight that I barely pay them any attention. We hurry towards the front gate, and there is Sergeant Miller waiting together with five more people. 

Sergeant Miller is a very tough trainer, but his soldiers admire him because he is one of the best. After being a soldier himself for more than ten years, he knows what he is doing and achieves the best progresses with the recruits. Many of his old trainees swear that they never had a better instructor than him, and they would go through hell for him. 

            "Doctor Martens, Doctor Briefs, I have been waiting for you. Private Smith and Private Jonson need medical attention, and I believe the civilian here is also injured."

While he talks, he points to the respective people. Private Smith is a beautiful blond girl who has several bandages around her thigh and her arms, some of them soaked with blood, and her complexion is a little bit too pale for comfort. Her features show her exhaustion, and her skin has lots of small cuts and bruises, as if she had had to force her way through thick brushes. She is leaning heavily on a stick and seems to be standing by will-power alone. 

Private Jonson looks even worse; he doesn't have as many cuts and bruises, but he has a make-shift cast around his right shin. Its whole front side is red with blood, and it is a miracle that he is even standing; although he is supported by two of the other recruits. Only then I realize that none of them are wearing their jackets anymore, probably cut up into pieces for the bandages.

The civilian is the strangest of them. But, what is a civilian doing here anyways? The whole area of several square miles has been fenced in with barbed wire, and nobody is allowed to enter it without authorization. I wonder why Sergeant Miller has not thrown him out already, he is not known for being kind to intruders.

He has black hair that is sticking straight up, and it is shaped like a flame. He wears something akin to a full-body spandex that reveals the fact that every inch of his body is well-muscled like the one of a bodybuilder. The armor and a fuzzy brown belt do nothing to conceal his attractiveness either, although they look strange to me. Where did he get those clothes? 

He possesses a high widow's peak and very fine facial features that look almost regal. He is standing with a lot of pride, and he seems to be quite adept at hiding his emotions behind a perfectly unmoving mask that I have been trying to learn during my years with my so-called 'father'. To me, he doesn't seem as badly injured as the other two, so I address the recruits first.

"Private Jonson, please follow Doctor Martens. Private Smith, you will come with me and I'll have a look at you."

It is not far to the medical ward, and they have proven that they are capable of moving around on their own, so I don't bother calling a stretcher. They slowly walk behind me, focusing completely on that one task. Well, walking is not the right expression. Private Jonson is practically being carried by his buddies, and Private Smith is not even trying to keep up. Every step seems to cost her a lot of strength she doesn't have, but she still stops, turns around and looks at the strange civilian, whispering exhaustedly.

            "Please let the doctor look at your wound … so that you can get your revenge on …"

She trails off at the sudden reaction that is scaring the hell out of me.

The man suddenly seems so much more menacing than all soldiers in this camp together; he practically is surrounded by an aura of strength that screams danger to all my senses, and his previously calm face is contorted in a hideous snarl. He almost looks like a rabid beast, but a rabid beast with intelligence reflected in its eyes. Everybody is backing away from him, and I can feel his anger, though I am not completely sure at whom or at what it is directed. 

He seems to be fighting himself as fragments of emotions are slipping through his facial mask, but that is cut off when the Smith-girl is starting to faint. At first, he makes no move, just staring at her with that stony façade slipping into place again, but when she collapses, he is by her side in an instant and catches her. 

One of her flailing arms accidentally hits him in the stomach, and a brief flash of pain shows on his face, then it is the stony mask again. He picks her up effortlessly and comes closer to me reluctantly as if he didn't want to get to the medical ward. I can't help but stare at his catlike grace and the soundless ease he moves with; he almost doesn't seem part of this world. 

Before he reaches me though, I manage to drag my attention away from him and lead them to the medical ward. Jack takes care of Private Jonson, and I am left with Private Smith and the man who is carrying her. I don't mind because I know that Jack always gets so nervous when dealing with women. Not wasting a second, I start giving orders.

            "Lay her on the table over there. How did she get those wounds, and how long ago was it?"

He seems to be taken a little bit aback by my 'business-voice', but he answers immediately with a deep, pleasant tone although it is a little bit gruff as if he wasn't used to talking a lot.

            "A … bear … Yesterday. It bit her several times, but the wounds on her thigh and her right arm are the most serious."

Stepping back from the bed, he leans against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest but not actually touching a spot beneath his sternum. I immediately get to work and look at her wounds. A few of them are quite deep and I have to sow them closed, but they are all healing very well, no signs of infection. It is quite a miracle, because there are no possibilities to keep a wound sterile in a forest, but it seems as if her immune system was strong enough to overcome all of the germs. 

The bandages she had were set very professionally and she had lost only a minimum amount of blood, so she should wake up soon. She probably only passed out from exhaustion and pain as her breathing and her heart-beat are strong and steady, and there are no signs of shock. Turning my attention back to the man, I inform him:

            "First, I am going to take her to the other patients, then I will come back to you. Don't leave, wait here."

He growls something which I take as a 'yes', and not even five minutes later, I am back in the operating room again, seeing that he has never moved from his spot. Looking straight into his eyes, I try to forget the rest of his attractive body, and ask:

            "Ok, where are you hurt?"

            "Like I would tell you."

Huh? What is that supposed to mean? Why is he so defensive all of a sudden?

            "If you don't tell me, I can't help you."

            "I don't need your help. It will heal on its own."

He is really stubborn, but the way Private Smith has talked to him, it seemed to be something serious. What has made him react the way he does? Is he afraid of admitting that he needs help? Focusing on his eerily black pupils, I answer hotly.

            "Listen here, mister. I have sworn the oath of Hippocrates which says that I have to do everything in my power to heal people. Now show me your injury!"

His previously closely guarded expression falters slightly, and a mixture of many feelings washes briefly through his coal black eyes, then they become hard again. I am sure that I saw lots of pride, but there had been a little bit of fear in the background, too. Though, what should he be afraid of?

Wearily, he removes the chest armor by just shedding it like a T-shirt, and it surprises me that it is very stretchable. He carefully lays it down on the floor, and it sounds as if it was heavy. Slowly, he gets up again, and I realize for the first time that he doesn't stretch himself to his full height but remains slightly hunched over, a sure sign of a fresh wound in the chest area.

His eyes never leaving my face as if he was checking that I won't do anything to him, he pulls down the spandex top so that it rests at his hips. A big bandage soaked with bright red blood is revealed, and from the amount of blood I can tell that it is quite serious and that he is probably in a lot of pain. It is remarkable that none of his agony shows on his face though.

            "Ok, lie down here, I will have a look at it."

He still doesn't move his eyes away from my body, and I would have smacked him on his head a long time ago if it had been a stare like most men look at me, a stare as if they were undressing me in their minds. But he watches my every move wearily, as if I was going to hurt him, and his tension is almost palpable. 

Slowly, always ready to bolt away, he lies down on the medical bed, keeping his dark eyes on me. I talk to him, explaining everything to him so that he can feel secure and that he can start trusting me. I wonder how he has ended up here, and how he became so weary; he seems to consider anything and everything as a potential danger.

            "I am going to cut the bandage away so that I can see the wound."

He lies as still as a statue when I carefully pull the bloodied cloth away, but he never relaxes; he is constantly tense and weary. There is a big gash across his stomach, and without the pressure from the cloth, it is bleeding quite heavily. How in the world did he get such a huge cut? It looks as if it had been intentionally made with a knife, and it is big enough that a small hand could slip in without any problems. 

He is watching me, watching my reaction, watching what I am doing. The constant watching is unnerving, it makes all of the small hairs on my body raise as if I was a dog. That stare feels so similar to the one of that bastard, but I can't let past memories overwhelm me, so I try to concentrate fully on the moment, to concentrate on the task at hand.

            "Ok, I am going to take care of your wound now and ask questions later. But you will have to answer them, this doesn't look like an accident. First, I am going to give you something against the pain, then I will sow the wound closed."

I just want to turn around to fetch a syringe with morphine when his hand grabs my arm as fast as lightening and pulls me back. He is hurting me, his steely grip around my wrist is painfully tight, and it is reminding me of what my father has done to me so many times. 

I would always try and get away from him whenever he has dragged me into his bedroom, and he has warped that into a game for him. He lets me think that I can escape, he watches my panicked attempts at flight with a sardonic smirk on his lips; but at the last moment, when I am almost out of the door, he always catches me by my wrist and drags my struggling body back to his bed. 

Trembling, I try to focus my thoughts on something else, but the memories are too strong, too fresh to forget. They start conjuring horrible images in front of my eyes as they wash over me; they weaken all of my resistance, and in the end, I am caught in an endless replay of the infinitely terrifying scenes where my father has used me as his personal toy.

I am not aware anymore that I am in a hospital; I am not aware anymore that there is an injured man on the bed; I am not aware anymore that those are only memories. Instead, all reason leaves me as I blindly struggle to get out of the iron grip around my wrist, and my whole attention is centered on fleeing from my father's room, on escaping from what is sure to come. 

Gasping for air, I want to scream for help, but a hard hand clamps over my mouth, hurting me, but I am so panicked that the adrenaline drowns out all pain. I am biting, I am kicking at his shins, I am thrashing around wildly, but nothing seems to have an effect on my captor. I am held so tightly that there is no chance of escape. 

The horrible knowledge that he has won again is starting to invade my hazed brain while I am still struggling, and all the implications of that are starting to surface in my conscious thoughts. In a desperate effort, I gather everything I have for a last fight, but I am drained too soon without having made any remarkable progress. 

Finally, I am so exhausted that I go limp in his arms, all strength having left me. I am even too weak to experience the full load of terror, so I shut my mind off, knowing very well what is going to follow. I can feel his hot, labored breath against my ear, and I shudder violently in disgust. I don't want this, please leave me alone, please have mercy on me… 

At first, I think he has heard my pleas, but when he starts talking in a hoarse and strangely unfamiliar voice, all of my hopes are shattered.

            "You are not going to scream when I take my hand away from your mouth. Understood?"

I don't react at all, too terrified to move, willing him to just go away, willing him to just leave me alone. But that has never happened before, he has always started letting his vile fingers trail over my body, so why should that change now? Shuddering, I draw back into my mind, shutting out the whole world expertly. I don't want to feel what he is going to do to me. The day afterwards is going to be bad enough, and that is my only chance to not go insane…

----------

I can smell her fear, it taints the whole room. What did I do? I just grabbed her by her wrist to keep her from fetching those drugs, and then she went berserk on me. Now, she is hanging limply in my arms, but she doesn't seem to have snapped out of whatever possessed her. Those humans are strange. The other female, the blond one, didn't have a reaction like this, so what is the matter with her?

Perhaps it has something to do with her strange hair color. Greenish-blue hair is perhaps the sign of some genetic defect that manifests in irrational panic-attacks. Or it could be some strange kind of disease that she has picked up somewhere, who knows what things those weak humans are susceptible to. 

Slowly, I release her, always watching her for any signs of a new seizure. She is still limp, so I lay her on the bed I have just rested on a minute ago. As soon as my hands leave her body, she curls up into a tight ball and starts sobbing. Weakling. But that posture looks kind of familiar to me, as if she was hiding from something or somebody she is terrified of. Could it be possible that she is going through some nightmares or memories?

Finally fed up with wondering about her condition, I take action. I determinedly walk towards the bed and place a hand on her back, right between her shoulder blades. Immediately, she stiffens and quiets down. Yes, she is responsive to touch, which is quite a sure sign that it isn't any seizure or illness. And she is so rigid while her fear is still clouding the room. I am not sure if it is going to work on her species as the ritual I am about to initiate has been designed for Saiya-jin only, but I don't think I have anything to loose. 

Concentrating, I try to remember what exactly Radditz had done for me during that special night to help me draw my thoughts away from that bastard. Gathering my energy, I let it trickle into her in a thin but steady stream as any more of my raw power would hurt her frail body. I know quite well what she is feeling right now because I have experienced the same. 

I had been so scared of Radditz that I had never let him touch me, and when he did touch me, I had stiffened and laid as still as an iron bar. He had been talking to me all the time, but I never heard what he was saying, I just reacted mindlessly. Then he had placed his hand on my back and shared his energy with me. At first, I had shied away as usually, but a warm, tingling feeling that ran down my spine had finally drawn me out of my stupor. It had been so different from the cold Aisu-jin, so pleasant, so relaxing, so warm.

Returning to the present, I have to smirk. It seems to have exactly the same effect on her as it had on me because she smiles and unconsciously leans into my hand. I could do anything to her now and she would never protest, but what would I want with an example of such a pathetic race? I just want her to fix my wound. 

Drawing my hand back from her skin, I address her with more chill in my voice than I originally intended, but it does its job and she is completely awake again.

            "You said you were going to tend to my wound."

She opens her eyes in confusion and gasps when she sees my wound. She turns blood red in her face and stammers:

            "Erh… s-sorry about that … I h-hope I didn't do anything … it's just … when you grabbed my wrist … it triggered some … memories I'd rather forget … "

I raise an eyebrow at her when she sadly looks down at her feet. So she has some bad memories? Sounds familiar to me. But if I ever want to get rid of the cut across my stomach, I need her to sow it closed before she has another relapse. And work is the best thing to keep your mind off unwanted memories. At least for me.

            "I don't care, just do your job."

I didn't think she could get any redder, but she proves me wrong. Man, what is the matter now? She looks dangerously close to fainting. Could that all be from some strange emotion she has? Hurriedly, she gets up from the bed and sets to work. Drawing out some small glass-cylinder with a capped needle at one end, she addresses me:

            "I am going to get the painkiller while you lay back down on the bed."

What!?! She still has not realized that I am not going to take any of those 'painkiller' those measly humans have? Do they think I am too weak to stand a little bit of stinging? I have to stop her, but how do I do that without causing her to react like she did before? Harshly, I growl:

            "No!"

She turns around and looks at me in surprise.

            "Why not?"

Well that is what I get from that. Couldn't she just have followed my instructions and NOT given me any of those 'painkillers'? But no, she has to know why. Finally, I decide to tell her the part of the truth that is probably the one she can accept the easiest.

            "Most painkillers don't work on me, and my reaction to the other ones is dangerous."

Yes, the only ones that work on my Saiyan physiology are the ones from the space-pod, and they only knock out my conscious brain. My unconsciousness and my reflexes are still working in that state, and they would kill anybody who is not Saiyan or bonded to me and dares to touch me.

            "Are you sure? Do you have an allergy?"

Allergy? What the hell is that? Some puny human disease? I don't even want to know what it is, so I just nod, not specifying which question I answered, and luckily, she seems satisfied. 

            "Ok, then I will try to work as fast as possible. Lie down."

She opens a drawer and pulls out a white trey with some metallic threads on it. Curiously, I watch as she places it on my lower abdomen and wipes the skin around the injury clean. She dons white see-through plastic gloves and an ugly green gown that contrasts nastily with her aqua-marine hair. Finally, she turns her attention towards me again.

            "I am going to call in some men who will hold you still. I don't want to take the risk of you moving while I sow the muscles and the veins back together. Stay here."

I growl deeply in my throat as I watch her hurry out of the room. Does she think I am a weakling? None of those pathetic humans can hold me down if I don't want to. And I have been through much worse pain, so a little bit of sowing can hardly evoke any reason to hold me down. Feh, they all are weaklings.

There she comes again – with three tall human males in tow who all look pathetically soft. They have no control over their emotions whatsoever, they move with no grace at all, and they are either too well-fed or they don't get enough exercise because all of that flesh can't be muscle. I could kill them from my position with just a lift of my finger, but I don't do it as I am trying to fit in, and so far, nothing has hinted at the fact that they like somebody who kills their species.

Instead, I grudgingly let them touch my hardened and steeled body with their soft, weak fingers, pretending that they are the ones holding me down. I can practically smell their arousal at the sight of the female, and that is plainly disgusting. They are joking around and giving stupid comments while the female is working quickly, showing more brain than all three of the males together. 

Finally, the small pin-pricks have stopped and she fetches some bandages to cover my wound. She is quite a good doctor, better than Radditz and myself, and the twinge of the two sides of the cut is minimal. At last, she allows the three males to release me, and I sit up immediately because I don't like being in such a submissive position. It pulls up bad memories of that bastard. 

Hearing a shocked gasp behind me, I turn around to look the female into her eyes, not wanting to have to bother with her at the moment.

            "What?", I snap angrily.

She has a look of horror on her face and stares at me in shock. What is it now? I've still got my tail wrapped securely around my waist, so why is she behaving like that? She starts stammering:

            "W-where did you get those scars?"

Oh, so she is fussing over my scars. Yeah, I guess my back is an interesting map of welts and lines. There are the claw-marks that that Son of a bitch has left at my last beating, there are several crisscrossing scars from the hot _ki_-beams that bastard had used to whip me with, there are several irregular battle scars, and then there is the name of that Aisu-jin carved across my shoulder-blades.

I will always have that as a reminder of my service to him, but at least I will never forget my oath to make him suffer for that. No matter how long it is going to take, no matter how hard I have to train, that bastard is going to pay for what he has done to me, I swear, I am going to get my revenge!

----------

Man, where did he get all of those scars? There are some running straight down as if a huge beast had raked its claws through his skin, some look like burn marks, others look as if he had been whipped and beaten. I can't imagine what kind of hell he must have suffered through, it must have been at least as bad as my own private hell. 

And then, there are the strange scars across his shoulders. They almost look as if something had been written on his body, but who would carve something into skin? I wonder what that could be, it looks strangely familiar, almost as if I had seen this kind of writing before…

Suddenly, I realize that he is growling lowly in his throat like an animal. His fists are clenched and he seems to be trembling from anger. I can practically feel how he is fighting with his inner demons, and somehow, I know that he is trying to overcome past memories. 

Private Duncan, Private Anderson and Private Miller are backing away from him because the power he is emitting is really scary. I can't see anything, but I can feel it in the air, it is raising all the tiny hairs on my body and it is flowing around me like water. It feels similar to his reaction outside when the Smith-girl had said something about him getting revenge on somebody. Perhaps it was this somebody who had left all those scars on his body…

Shuddering, I imagine how painful it must have been. I am by no means a stranger to being hurt, but this is just unimaginable. They look so deep, it is a small miracle that he had not bled to death when he had received those wounds. How can he have suffered through that much and still be sane?

Turning my attention back towards the current situation, I realize that the three men have snuck out of the room like cowards and left me here alone. Tsk, what a brave army we have … but I have to do something soon, because it seems as if the power in the room was growing, and if it gets any stronger, it could be dangerous.

Realizing that I don't even know his name, there is only one possibility left. Drawing together all of my courage, I step closer to him. It almost feels as if I was wading through a strong current, and it takes a lot of work to go forwards. The feeling is strange, there is a light tingling at my skin because the air is heavily charged with electricity. I wonder why none of the machines here have mal-functioned so far, but that is not my top priority at the moment. Finally, I am within arm-length of him and reach out to touch him, seeing no other way to snap him out of his trance.

            "Don't!"

I cringe back at his harsh, commanding voice and almost loose my balance with the strong currents pressing against me. The bed in my back stops my fall, but it hurts. Grimacing, I rub my back and want to know why not. 

            "Never touch me when I am charged with energy like that. You would have to be lucky to survive. Now show me a place where I can safely work out – alone."

            "But you shouldn't strain yourself, the wound might open up again if you are not careful."

            "If I don't get rid of this energy soon, you might wish later on that you had let me do my training. Now where can I work out?"

Shit, that has happened to him before? What the hell is he? And how does he expect to get rid of all that power by working out? Can't he just discharge it somehow, then he would not hurt himself, and my doctor's instincts would not have to complain. But I guess he knows best how to handle the situation, so I wait for him to pick up his armor and wordlessly lead him into the gym where there are many weights and other equipment. When he sees them though, he scrunches his forehead up and asks in disgust.

            "What the hell is this? I wanted a place to work out, not something stuffed with such useless gadgets!"

Has he completely lost his mind? This is one of the best fitness rooms, and here you can work out wonderfully! He almost behaves as if he had never been to earth before. Fed up with his antics, I snap back:

            "Then what would you like, your highness?"

At first, he is astonished, then the corners of his mouth twitch upwards in a satisfied smirk. Definitely not good. I seem to have pleased his already big ego even more.

            "A big, empty room with thick walls where no one can watch me."

Don't get angry. Do NOT get angry. 

I have to grit my teeth and repeat that mantra continuously in my head. His whole behavior is really infuriating, he acts as if he was the king in here. Just why do I have to get stuck with the worst pricks on this planet? Additionally, this is a military base, not a Five-star-hotel where everybody is there just to please him! 

I am just about to tell him that when I see the cracks on the floor where he is standing. The linoleum looks as if somebody had painted a whole root system on it, but I know that those are no roots. In front of us, the floor is still untouched, but behind us… Shit, I don't think he was kidding! What the hell did he do? No human can have powers like those, can they?

Gulping, I lead him across several open fields to an old part of the base, an outdated hangar where there had been airplanes sheltered once. Now, the airport has been moved to another base, approximately thirty miles south of here. Nobody comes to this place anymore, so that should suit him just fine. He looks around and simply nods at me, showing me that I am dismissed. I swear, the nerve of that guy! But he doesn't seem to notice my anger, he just throws his armor he had been carrying around all the time into a corner where it lands with a heavy clank. Then, he takes a fighting stance in the middle of the room and starts some slow katas.

He hasn't put on a shirt yet, so I can see each one of his muscles ripple with the exertion. Even the bandage and the wound beneath don't seem to hinder his movements, they just flow from his body with utter grace. He is a perfect picture of esthetics; hell, he would have even made the Greek demi-god Hercule jealous. His tanned skin and his flame-like black hair give him a dark, mysterious appearance, and I have to force myself away because the powerful aura he projects is slowly dulling my conscious thoughts. Licking my dry lips, I try to sound as normal as possible, but I am embarrassed because all I manage get out is a hoarse squeak. Clearing my throat, I try it again.

            "I will come and get you for supper. That is when the sun sets. Until then, I'll leave you alone. And don't you dare make your wound break open again!"

With those words, I turn around and stomp out of the hangar to save the last shreds of my dignity, but I can't avoid catching a smirk dancing around the edges of his lips. Argh, he is more than impossible!

A/N: Did you like it? For those who have not read it in my A/N at the beginning:

I have been asked to start a mailing list, so if you want to know when I bring out a new chapter or a new story, leave your e-mail address in your review or write me a short mail.


	5. A New Job

A/N: Please don't flame me because I know next to nothing on how the army works. I have just used a lot of imagination and made up everything you read here. If you see any grave mistakes, please tell me. And I want to apologize for a mistake in the last chapter (DBZ_fanfiction_queen was so nice to point it out): I wrote Hercule, but in reality, I meant Hercules (sorry, I don't know how the name of that afroed weakling could get so stuck in my head that I messed him up with a Greek god…)

It has surprised me that so many people wanted to join my mailing list, so for all who have not read it yet: I have a mailing list. Leave your e-mail address in your review or mail me directly, and I will always send you a short note with a link to the story I have updated.

To otaku: Thank you. I made it that way because I just hate the snobbish Bulma who is spoiled beyond hope.

To NeverAgainTruth: I hope I got your e-mail address right. Please tell me if you didn't get the short mail from me.

To videl2002gal: No problem, you are welcome.

To Mistress Belial: Well, there is next to no V/B action in this chapter. Sorry, but I had to get Vegeta a job so that he has a reason to stay at the base (and fall in love with Bulma). But I think you will see some more in the next chapter.

To Gold_Saiyaness: Thank you very much! It is good to hear that there are people out there who appreciate my story.

To DBZ Fanficion Queen: *Hides behind the chair in shame * I am so sorry, I never meant to put that idiot down as a Greek demi-god. I don't know how that could happen (well, I do know: I forgot to put an 's' at the end of the name), Thank you very much for pointing that one out… If you find any more of those, please tell me!

To SESwing: *smirks evilly * I love suffering (in case you haven't noticed that yet), I live for those moments. Sounds pretty insane, don't you think? 

To Dragonheart: WHAT!?! YOU'VE ALREADY GOT VACATION??? That's just not fair *pouts slightly *, my summer vacation is starting in a month, and I have to go back to school in September, too. I don't know why, but the first-person view is easier for me to write, because I can just imagine myself in such a situation, and then I have no problems writing what I feel. What I find difficult is making a third-person-character so believable that one can identify oneself with it, and I admire all the authors who are able to do that.

Private Sandler was having second thoughts about his desire to enter the Special Forces. He had always been very sportive; he had played basketball, football, baseball, and he had been one of the best wrestlers in his high-school team. But all of that didn't seem to matter now, because this training was beyond tough. 

They were woken up at 5 a.m. by the annoyingly loud voice of their drill sergeant; then they had to jog for an hour in lock-step. At 6:30, breakfast was served, and afterwards, they divided up into several groups. Some had to go to the shooting stand, some had to learn how to clean a machine gun, some had to do an obstacle course, some had to practice hiding and sneaking up on the enemy without being seen, and so on. There were two blocks à two hours before noon, and two blocks à two hours in the afternoon with only thirty minutes break in between. The teams were going from one place to another, so everybody had to do four different tasks in one day. Sometimes, a group had to stay at one place for two blocks, and that was what had happened to his group.

At the moment, Private Sandler was desperately trying to follow Sergeant Azuma's instructions on how to attack and defend yourself without any weapons, but he couldn't concentrate properly anymore because he was very tired. It had been a long day for him; he was physically and mentally exhausted, and he didn't think he could move any muscles even if his life depended on it.

            "Alright, you little pieces of shit! Which one of you weaklings has the guts to demonstrate the next technique with me?", Azuma shouted.

Everybody looked either down to the grass or up into the sky or to his neighbor, because none of them wanted to be the test subject for Sergeant Azuma. He was a very violent man, and many volunteers had gotten injured during his demonstrations.

            "You worthless bunch of pussycats! You want to be in the Special Forces? You will never make it like that! You have to be strong and tough! Now, one of you come up to the front right now, or all of you will have to do a hundred push-ups!"

Still, everybody was too scared to move, even if it meant some more physical exercise. But Private Sandler started to think. If he would volunteer and he got injured, then he could stay in the medical ward for a few days and get out of those hellish training sessions. Just as he had drawn together enough courage to volunteer, Sergeant Azuma pointed right into his direction and his resolution evaporated as fast as dry ice under the hot sun.

            "You! With the punkish black hair! Yes, I mean you! You don't seem to be doing anything useful, so come up here, or are you too scared to do so?"

Private Sandler heard a menacing growl behind him that made a chill run up and down his spine. What kind of man could produce such a feral noise in his throat? Nonetheless, he was infinitely relieved when he realized that the sergeant had not meant him. He could not turn around because the whole group had been called to attention, but he soon saw the person the instructor had meant when he pushed past Private Sandler. 

At first, he didn't want to believe his eyes, but a second glance assured him that he had been right indeed with his observations. That person was a wiry young man who wore only some black spandex pants and a white bandage around his chest, but none of the two clothing articles did any to hide the many muscles clinging to a lean frame. His tanned skin was marred with many scars, he moved with cat-like grace, and he exuded a dark, angry feeling.

But that was not what had astonished Private Sandler so much. It was the coal black hair that stuck upwards like a flame that caused his confusion. This man could not be a soldier, because all soldiers had to shave their heads until the hair was no longer than half an inch at the most, and he did not wear an army uniform.

Private Sandler felt pity for the man Azuma had pointed out, because Sergeant Azuma was known throughout the base for his sadistic streak. There was no way he could match Azuma's skill, and he delighted in mocking and hurting those who were unfortunate enough to face him. Azuma was a master in most Eastern fighting disciplines, like karate, judo, taek-won-do, Kung Fu, etc., and he had won many illegal tournaments by brutally beating his opponent into submission. The black-haired man could only hope and pray that Azuma would not harm him too badly, because the instructor was in an especially bad mood today.

When the man reached the front, Azuma started taunting him about his appearance:

            "Ah, so you have been in a couple of fights yourself, but those scars look to me as if you had always been the under-dog. Can't stand against a full-sized man, can you?"

Even from his place in the last row, Private Sandler could see how the man narrowed his eyes to very small slits, and suddenly, he wasn't very sure anymore which one of the two seemed more menacing. Azuma always had an air of deceitfulness and malevolence around him, but the other one had an overwhelmingly dark presence that broadcast his power and his superior strength. And the most curious thing was that although he clearly was very angry, his face showed none of his emotions, and his voice was deceptively calm and smooth.

            "You know nothing about me, so you better shut up before I have to show you my fighting abilities. I promise you that you'd have to be lucky to survive them. Now, why did you call me?"

That was one of the most stupid things the man could have said. Private Sandler winced in sympathy because he knew what was going to come. Unless you were suicidal, you should never insult Sergeant Azuma. That had been the very first lesson he had learned here.

            "So you think that you are better than me?"

Azuma's voice had changed into a purring tone dripping with malice and suppressed anger. Private Sandler noticed that all recruits had started trembling slightly from the hinted promise of pain, and he was no exception. But the black-haired man did not seem to take notice of that at all. Instead, an evil smirk slowly spread over his face.

            "I don't think so. I know so."

Azuma's features were morphing into a mask of utter rage that could make anybody piss his pants, and his voice had sunk to a low hiss.

            "Care to show me your skills?"

The other man was either immensely stupid or had complete control over his facial expressions, because he still did not seem impressed. On the contrary, he rather seemed bored.

            "I do not fight against weaklings like you."

With those words, the man turned around. Private Sandler almost covered his eyes because he did not want to see what was going to happen, but some kind of morbid fascination held him safely in place. He couldn't do anything but watch how Sergeant Azuma lost control, charged the other man, and prepared to strike him in the back, a very dishonorable move. 

Sandler wanted to shout out a warning, but before he had opened his mouth, the black-haired man had already whirled around with a snarl on his face and caught the punch safely in his palm. If Azuma was surprised, he didn't let it show but immediately hurled his leg upwards to kick the other one into the bandage that surely hid a wound. The black-haired man also evaded this strike, and each one of the following dirty tricks Azuma tried. He always kept on the defense, and after several minutes, Azuma got irritated and drew away. The sergeant was panting and sweating, and he asked in a snide voice:

            "What's the matter with you? Too weak to attack?"

The other just stared at him with a look of disgust on his face, but otherwise completely unharmed. He had not even worked up a sweat yet.

            "If you value your life, you should not challenge me. You have no idea of whom you are messing with."

            "Hm, let me think about it. A weak pansy? A scared pussy-cat? A banana-eating monkey?"

The growl that cut him off was one that was purely animalistic and devoid of any mercy, and for the first time in his life, Azuma seemed to be scared. The features of the black-haired man were suddenly shaded with darkness and feral rage, and he hissed between his teeth like an angered predator:

            "Do not say I haven't warned you…"

With one swift jump, he had covered the distance that separated them and started a rapid succession of kicks and punches, all of them going through Azuma's defenses as if they were non-existent. How the hell did that guy do that? Private Sandler had never seen such a display of perfection before.

A powerful sweep with one leg made a loud crack resound. Azuma gracelessly fell down to the floor with a cry of pain, and he collapsed into a boneless, sobbing heap with one of his feet bent at an unnatural angle. The man knelt down to Azuma and stopped only when their faces almost touched. Private Sandler could not hear what he said, but he saw that it left a look of utter fear and horror on Azuma's face. 

When the black-haired man smirked, got up again and dusted his hands off, there was a spontaneous applause for him as all recruits were glad that finally, somebody had bested the arrogant Sergeant. 

Suddenly, a loud, deep voice from behind made the noise die down very fast. 

            "What is going on here?"

----------

Astonished, I am staring at those humans in front of me who are cheering and clapping for me. Then, I look down at the limp male on the grass. They are really cheering for me? They are cheering because I have beaten up somebody?

Suddenly, I realize the similarities and I start feeling really sick to my stomach. This is the exact role reversal. Usually, I would be lying limply on the floor, and the crowd would cheer that cold bastard on. I would be the injured one, and the son of a bitch would receive the praise. 

Have I really become so much like him? That I am enjoying the attention I get from beating down on somebody infinitely weaker than me? But where is the difference between that and purging planets, or fighting? Have I already become like that bastard without even realizing it? This concept is horrifying to me, and I have to do everything to not double over and vomit onto the grass. 

Suddenly, a cool, controlled voice penetrates the haze of self-accusation around my brain.

            "What is going on here?"

That must be somebody with a lot of authority over this place; he sounds used to everybody obeying his command. Still struggling with what I have done, I straighten slowly and make use of the stony mask I have put on so often. I will not show them any weaknesses, although I feel quite empty, probably having gambled away my chance of integrating into society. 

Well, it isn't as if I had never been on my own before, and there should be absolutely no problem in surviving on this weak planet; though I would be stuck on a puny mud-ball, never able to return and achieve my revenge. But first, I will hear what this commander wants. He is looking around for an answer, but nobody is moving.

            "Somebody tell me. You!"

He points to a tall male with very short, blond hair in the very last row.

            "What is your name, recruit?"

            "Private Sandler, Sir!"

            "What has happened here, Private Sandler?"

This 'Private Sandler' seems to be quite jumpy and nervous. I wonder why, he isn't the one who has done any thing. Still, he looks scared out of his wits.

            "Sir, we were training weaponless combat with Sergeant Azuma, and he wanted to show us a new move. Nobody volunteered though, so he picked out this man. I think, this man was just passing by, because he does not belong to our group; anyways, Sergeant Azuma started insulting him, and then they fought. The man had warned Sergeant Azuma several times to not challenge him, but Sergeant Azuma didn't listen, and he was defeated quickly. Then you came, Sir."

I quickly have to suppress the urge to raise an eyebrow. The way this male is telling the story, it sounds as if I was not to blame for the incident at all. 

So you can twist events that way, too. Furiza had always blamed me for everything, and he was a master at making me responsible for things I never came in contact with. It is quite refreshing to hear that the same trick can be pulled the other way round. It will be interesting to hear what that commanding male has to say.

            "And why did all of you applaud, Private Sandler?"

The male is turning red in his face which I have learnt to recognize as a feeling of shame and insecurity. He is stuttering and stammering.

            "Erh, Sir, Sergeant Azuma has got some … personality traits… that make it … difficult to like him, and as he always was so convinced of … his fighting abilities…, it was … nice … to see that there are some who are … at least as good as him. We applauded because you don't get to see everyday how somebody of Sergeant Azuma's skill is defeated, Sir!"

So they did not cheer because they enjoyed the sight of torture? That is quite a new concept to me, and I can't quite grasp it yet. While I am pondering over this issue, that commanding male is thinking, too. Finally, he addresses me. 

            "Did you defeat Sergeant Azuma?"

I simply nod, not knowing what else to do. I have no clue of how they address any members of their society, so I try sticking to the minimum.

            "How badly did you hurt him?"

"A few lacerations, a bruised rib, a cleanly broken shin, and he is knocked out."

The commanding male is drawing his eyebrows together and states in dismay.

            "That is going to take almost three months to heal. But we need an instructor for the weaponless arts, and I am not sure where to get one on such short notice."

A short pause forms which that 'Private Sandler' interrupts timidly.

            "Sir, why can't that man teach us?"

What? I am supposed to teach those … weaklings!?! I hope that this is just some sick joke of them, and that their commander is not going to agree to such. I sincerely hope so. But that would be a way to integrate, to become a part of their world… The human takes that decision out of my hand. Funny, but for the first time in my life I actually hand over control. And that to a weak human…

            "Please follow me to my office, I don't want to discuss this openly." 

Astonished, I am walking behind him, still surprised at the quick turn of events. A few minutes ago, I had thought they would try to punish me, and now, they are practically offering me a place in their society. What a weird species…

----------

He is sitting behind a big, black desk that seems to be made of wood, the resource that is so abundant on this small planet. I never knew you could make those things from simple plants, because on Vegeta-sei, we used stone for our plain huts, and we didn't need any thing else. On that bastard's ship, everything was made of cold metal, so no woodwork there either. He is motioning for me to sit down, so I lower myself onto a chair that is so soft that I sink deeply into the cushions. 

What is the purpose of those cushions? Rendering me immobile? If somebody would attack me now, I would be at his mercy because I could never get out of this chair in time to fight. Trying not to show my uneasiness, I wait for him to start the conversation for which I don't know the rules.

            "You are not a recruit, you don't have any military rank, and you don't belong to the staff. Why are you here?"

            "I was in the woods, and there I met one of your recruits, Private Smith, I believe. She was injured and I helped her. The next day, Sergeant Miller found us, and Private Smith insisted that I come with them because I had been hurt. When we arrived here early this afternoon, a blue-haired doctor stitched the wound together. She didn't tell me where to go or what to do, so I just stayed here."

That was a very short version of my story, and I deliberately did not elaborate how I got that wound. Furiza would have killed anybody who dared to venture into his base, but the human seems satisfied with my explanation and doesn't seem to be inclined to end my life.

            "Why were you at the practice field of Azuma's group?"

            "I had been bored, so I started wandering around."

Still the truth, but I never mentioned my training in the hangar. Doesn't seem to be wise at the moment, but don't ask me why. After a while in that hot building, I had managed to get my ki under control again, and I had been curious on how they trained their soldiers on such a weak planet. Needless to say that I was thoroughly disappointed. They even need weapons to kill each other. 

            "Where did you acquire those skills in weaponless combat?"

Shit, I can't say anything about me being a Saiya-jin. They live on a back-water planet, so they surely have never heard of any other races nor would know how to recognize an outsider.

            "My parents have given me to a trainer as soon as I could walk, and I have changed my instructors several times over the years. When I had been able to defeat most of my … trainers a few years ago, I had started developing and improving my technique on my own."

I hope he doesn't pick up on the fact that I am being so evasive and that I never mention any names. Really, 'trainer' and 'instructor', what nice names for those bastards who had mercilessly beaten me into oblivion…

            "How did you receive those scars?"

Now, I am really tense and I hope he will swallow the answer I give him.

            "One of my teachers believed in enforcing his lessons by … hurting me every time I did something wrong."

            "How did he hurt you?"

His questions are really starting to annoy me. He has no right to pry so far into my personal sphere and make me think about my worst hours. What I have endured is not meant to be heard by weaklings like him; he would piss his pants if I told him half of what I have suffered through, so I only give a heavily censored answer.

            "He possessed a set of big, sharp claws that he would rake through my back. Sometimes, he also used …" Shit, I have almost wanted to 'ki-beams' for a moment, "a heated knife to slash me repeatedly."

Looking at his reaction, I am satisfied. Hah, I have manage to severely gross that human out, and that was only a tiny fraction of what I have gone through. Damn that weakling for making me remember it.

            "Ok, that's enough. I am sorry that I asked. Have you ever tried teaching your skills to anybody?"

            "My … brothers", well, I can't say that they are the last remaining members of my race, so they are going to be my brothers. "I was the one who taught them how to improve their skills."

            "How good are your brothers?"

            "Were. They are dead. They could have easily defeated the guy I have defeated today, but they were never able to take me on."

            "Any other living relatives?"

            "All dead."

Yes. They all died on that one fateful day that made my race almost extinct. And all of that it is the fault of that cold bastard because he blew up my planet.

            "Current address?"

            "Don't have any. Since my brothers died a year ago, I have been wandering around on my own."

            "Then I take it that you neither have a job nor any other secure income?"

I just nod, storing the information away for further use. So they are working with a monetary system. I can dimly remember that we had one on Vegeta-sei, too, but that had been so long ago … and on the star-ship of that bastard, the daily need had been provided. Well, not exactly, you could earn yourself everything by kissing that bastard's ass.

            "Do you have any education?"

Huh? What am I supposed to say now? What do they consider 'education'? And all those questions are starting to annoy me, hasn't he already asked enough?

            "I can read and write."

Yes, their writing differs only a little bit from the standard Universal, so I should be able to perform both of those tasks with only little mistakes.

            "Why would you like to have that job?

Has he gone completely insane? I am not the one who needs something, he is the one who wants to have a replacement for that pathetic excuse for a fighter.

            "The question is, why do you offer this job to me. I don't know any of your motives for choosing me, but if I can earn some money by doing what I am best at, then that is fine with me."

"Then write down your name on this line."

He hands me a thin, white sheet of an unknown material that is covered with black printing. That is quite strange. They seem to be technologically quite advanced, they even have a very basic version of computers, but they still use those white things to write everything down. It says something about a 'contract of employment' and the line he has pointed to has a subtitle 'signature'. I raise an eyebrow towards him and ask:

            "Is this supposed to mean that you want me to teach them weaponless self-defense?"

He just nods, and I am happy that he doesn't ask me any more questions. If he had kept on, I don't know what I would have done. But before I agree to the 'contract of employment', I want to ask some questions of my own.

            "How much am I supposed to teach them?"

            "There are four different groups of recruits here. Three groups want to become regular army soldiers, so you've got two months to teach them basic self-defense. The other group wants to become a member of the Special Forces, so you will have to train them harder. You've got four months to teach them as much as possible, self-defense, attack, anything to be useful when they are unarmed."

They are never going 'to be useful when they are unarmed'; they are much too weak for that. And they will never be able to harness their pitiful _ki_, but perhaps they can do some damage to those who are as weak as them. I think I will give it a shot, because this is a good way to discover their physical and mental limits. 

Taking the strange rod the man has laid on top of the white sheet, I slowly write my name on the line provided. I am completely amazed that the rod leaves a blue mark on the white thing when I touch it, but I don't show this and finish my signature. He takes the sheet as soon as I am finished writing down my name, looks at it, and nods.

            "I will call in Doctor Briefs. You have already met her, and she is going to show you around and tell you what you need to know. Any other questions, Mr. Vegeta?"

            "No."

            "Good. You will start tomorrow morning. You are dismissed."

No pathetic human is going to simply dismiss me! I am the king of all Saiya-jin! How dare he…

But I quickly slam a lid over my anger and leave the room before I do something I would regret. Outside, there is already the blue-haired female waiting, quite angry, and she immediately starts ranting.

            "I told you not to overexert yourself, and what do you do? Picking a fight with Sergeant Azuma. I swear, if you have managed to aggravate your wound, I am going to chain you down on a bed for the rest of this weak! Come with me, I will check you through to see how your healing is progressing."

She is storming out of the room, and I have no choice but to follow her. When it concerns her profession, she has quite a fiery temper and fights well with words. Perhaps she is not as weak as all of those other pathetic humans – at least mentally. But, on the other hand, exceptions prove the rule.

A/N: Well, what do you think? If you know any way to have a great romance (mind you, not just plain sex) without having too much fluff (I hate fluff, and Vegeta just isn't the type to like fluff), please tell me!

If you want me to add you to my mailing list, leave your e-mail address in your review or mail me directly.


	6. Bonding

To DBZ Fanfiction Queen: Whew, finally the new chapter… Didn't know it would take me so long… Enjoy!

To Nasiya: Yeah, I know I am cruel (*g*), I just like the characters to suffer (if you don't believe me – read my other fic Beginning, lots of Gohan-torture in there). If you didn't get a mail with this update, please send me your e-mail address again!

To SESwing: Nah, I don't like tragic ends either. Character deaths (the main ones) are just so depressing, so I try to avoid them. Can't guarantee for nothing though! If the story demands that Vegeta dies… then he will die! But I am not that far yet.

To She'sGone: What's up with that name-change? Got tired of your old one? Well, here is your update!

To Stitched-Harlequin: Yet another vote for long chapters. I don't like the short ones myself, so I will keep them that long!

To Mistress Belial: Heh, I hate the fluffy romance stories! I hope that I haven't put too much sap in here… That was actually the reason why it took me so long to get this chapter out. Did I do a good job with this chapter again?

To Daisukesgirl1: Thanks a lot! Hopefully I solved the fluff-problem in this chapter! And, well, the pain I put Vegeta through… I just like torturing some characters. Gohan is good for torture, maybe Goku too (though not if he is the dumb, happy-go-lucky-imbecile he is portrayed as so many times), but Chi-chi? Can't imagine putting her through all that crap Vegeta went through… Well, have fun with this chap!

To Katarina: Thanks!

To aer-seph4eva: Did you get the e-mail? If not, then tell me, please!

To dbz27: Erh, sorry, this story didn't want to be updated any sooner… But finally, I have written this chapter! Enjoy!

A/N: Sorry for the long delay! I didn't think it would take me so long to write this chapter (well, to be honest, I was kind of lazy, too). I have written a big part of this chapter during summer vacation, but then… in a fit of madness, I have almost deleted all of it. Only a few days ago have I found this chapter again, and now here it is! I hope that you won't have to wait for such a long time till the next update, but I can't guarantee for nothing… Sorry! 

Bonding

Man, how does that guy do that? His wounds have healed in less than three days! And now, it is gone, only a small scar has remained, another one amidst all the others he has. Yes, I know, I should not have stared at him for such a long time, but hey, I am still a woman, and he looks good. Well, maybe he looks more than just 'good', though I don't want to admit that. Because then, I might have to admit that I have a silent crush on him, and that is something I absolutely do not need at the moment. 

I still can't get the images of my father out of my head, and almost every night, I have nightmares about him.  The usual kind: I run and run and run, but I can't run away from him. I can feel him groping me, and just before I manage to scream, I wake up, drenched in cold sweat, my heart racing a mile per second. Then, I can't go back to sleep again, the memories won't let me. 

Today, it's especially bad. It is two a. m., and I am wide awake. Silently cursing, I get up because I know that lying in bed will never calm me down. I have done that so often that I don't need a light to find my shoes and my clothes, and within a few minutes, I am out of the room I share with three other women. 

At night, the base is so very silent, so different from the many shouts and commands during day-light. The only sounds are the wind brushing over the building, the steady humming of the generators, and the soft ticking of a clock. I don't add any further noise to the silence as I quickly make my way through the dimly lit corridors, fleeing to my safe-haven on this base. Well, safe-haven would be exaggerated; it is nothing more than a small lab, but I have always been able to forget everything around me when I am messing with some technical gadgets. And that is exactly what I need right now. A distraction from my nightmares. 

When I open the door to my lab, I am surprised that it is already unlocked, and I am even more shocked when the lights are burning and I hear somebody working in there. Stealthily, I peek through the small crack between the door and the doorframe to see who has dared to enter my sanctuary. 

Behind a rack of test-tubes, I spot a mop of flaming black hair that is bent over something I can't recognize. But that is already enough, because I know whom that hair belongs to. What in the world is he doing here at two in the morning? The only reason I can think of is that he is a spy. Either somebody sent by my father to have a look at what I am doing, or he is from some terrorist organization to steal some blue-prints for weapons. Though what is he doing in my lab; I have never been busy with weapons-design?

Suddenly, he perks up and looks around. Frightened, I freeze completely, hidden by the door. What has alerted him to my presence? I am so sure that I have not made any sounds at all! I hear him sniffing the air, and it is coming closer. He is coming in my direction… I hold my breath and hope that he won't discover me, but it seems that my luck has run out. Before I can react, he throws the door open, and I stumble inside with a choked scream of surprise. He immediately catches me and twists my arms into a painful position, his other hand threatening to break my neck. 

His hot breath is whispering into my ear, and I am scared senseless. My mind goes into stasis, refusing to work properly. He is holding me – painfully. It is dark. Silent, hot breath against shivering skin. Hyperventilating. Dizzy, everything is starting to spin. All sensations are so unreal.

Am I still dreaming? 

Yes, that must be it. I have actually never woken from my nightmare, and this is only the continuation. That would mean… no, please, father, no, let me go, and I promise I'll be good… don't… Stop it, somebody help me, please, I don't want to be hurt… I want to … wake… up…

Shaking with fear, I try to curl up into myself, but the painful grip around me doesn't allow that. It holds me up, with my arms bent at an almost unnatural angle, and he has still a free hand to do with me whatever he wants. I shudder and try to tune anything out, but the wandering hand on my back doesn't allow that. It is rough, strong, hard, promising pain if I don't relent to its explorations.

Strangely though, it doesn't try to get into my pants or beneath my shirt. It is just touching me lightly, and a soothing warmth is spreading from it, calming me down considerably. The pressure on my neck and my arms lessens, and I can hear him talking to me.

"What the hell are you doing here, onna?"

I break out in hysterical laughter, the shock of my nightmare not completely gone yet. However, the soothing hand on my back slowly brings me back to reason once again, and with it, my anger flares full force.

"That is not funny, mister. This room is my laboratory, and you are the one who is sneaking in here at two am. If you don't want me to report you to the base commander for being a spy, then you better talk now!"

"Report whom to the base commander?" 

The cold voice behind me does not belong to Vegeta, but it is familiar. What the hell is everybody doing in my private lab at this ungodly hour? Just before I can retort a sarcastic answer, I see the speaker, and I can't help but press myself further into Vegeta's body, fear flaring around me almost visibly. To my surprise, he doesn't push me away, even when he doesn't know what is going on. He just remains standing behind me as stiff as a rock, every muscle taut in anticipation. I realize that he is not going to answer, so I quickly stutter out a not-so-well-thought lie.

"Erh, …, Vegeta just wanted to inform me… about somebody he had seen… sneaking around the base, and he wasn't sure whether to alarm anybody or not, so he came to me, but he didn't want to tell me what he was looking like, because…"

Vegeta interrupts me crudely.

"Silence, woman, you are rambling. Who are you and what are you doing in her lab?"

I am not very surprised that Vegeta doesn't recognize my father, but it is interesting to see how my father's face turns beet-red and he starts sputtering.

"You impudent, ignorant wisecrack, you think I don't see what you plan on doing with my daughter? Get your slimy paws off her NOW or I will call security!"

Amazingly, Vegeta releases me, and I immediately miss his reassuring hand. He stays strangely calm, although his voice is lined with ice.

"As you wish. But I think I planned on doing much less to your daughter than you did."

What? How did he know? I start panicking, which is made even worse by my father. He grabs my arm painfully, and he forcibly drags me towards him until I am face to face with his unnaturally pale visage that is sparkling with suppressed anger. I can't do anything else than tremble violently in the face of his fury, and he is trying to squeeze an answer out of me.

"What have you told him, you ungrateful wench? You will pay for that, be sure! I thought I have taught you to keep silent, but it seems that I have to give you that lesson again…"

I am frozen at his leering gaze that is wandering shamelessly over my body, reducing me to the frightened child that he had molested for the first time so many years ago. From far away, I hear myself begging, and I am disgusted at myself.

"No, please, father, I didn't do it, please, let me go, please…"

Suddenly, he doesn't hold me anymore and is about ten feet away. Dimly, I recognize that it is Vegeta holding me, and that soothing warmth of his hand is back stronger than ever before. His unnaturally calm voice is rumbling in his chest, comforting me further.

"She did not tell me anything. You just did by your actions, you puny human. You do not deserve her, and this is my one and only warning: Never come near her again!"

The warmth flowing from his hand is increasing, and I don't think it is only his body temperature anymore. I actually feel something pushing into me with an unbelievable strength, although it doesn't hurt. The warmth is relaxing me, allowing me to get away from reality, keeping the terror at bay.  Then I am filled, and something in my mind snaps into place, something I didn't even know was causing me any discomfort.

I don't know how or why, but suddenly, I understand him. 

I know the way his mind works as if it was my own. I can practically feel his anger at himself for letting this happen. I was not supposed to be able to bond to him. He should get rid of me, at least his customs demand it, but he just can't, and he is cursing himself for it.

His eyes spit fire and venom, burning with a deep fury. Strangely enough though, it is reassuring to me, their power making me feel safe and protected by him. Yes, maybe I am really going insane, thinking that I can read some other person's mind. Well, not exactly like that, it is more like an understanding of him, like knowing him as if he was part of me. 

Perhaps, if I strained hard enough, I could also access his memories or his thoughts, but that image scares me. The whole situation is scary. I think he picked up on my anxiety, because he reaches out a hand to me, lightly brushing it against my skin. 

It feels strange, the echo from his brain confusing me. It is almost as if I was touching my own cheek, but still different. Perhaps it is like the phantom pain. People who have lost some body parts, a hand or an arm, sometimes complain about their missing limbs hurting, although they rationally know they are not there.

I am exactly the same. I rationally know that it can't be, but I feel his body as if it was my own, as if he was an extention of myself. And I can feel the power laying dormant inside him in a place I have never consciously known.

This is the power that made the walls crack, and who knows what else he can do with it.

Suddenly, a violent slap tears me out of my fascination, and I see my angered father looming over me. Recoiling in fear, I start to panick. What is he going to do to me? Surely, he will beat me almost senseless, but then? Is he really going to rape me again?

Please, no, somebody come and help me! Don't! Go away! I hate you, blease go, don't touch me. No, leave me alone, no, no, no, no,… I don't want to be…

I feel strong hands seizing my shoulders. Ironically, the grip doesn't send me into new fits of panic again but calms me down with its familiarity. Without having to turn around, I know that it is Vegeta. Why he stayed to help me – I don't know. I can only feel him seething with an unholy amount of anger and hatered, and the power inside him is starting to boil over the edges.

It is demanding to be released, to come out and destroy everything in its wake. I can hear it crackling behind me, humming lowly like an electrically charged coil, but I am not touched by it. Instead, it is flowing around me in a protective shield, hiding me from my father. Vegeta's presence is reaching out to me, trying to rassure me while he is still struggling to control himself. Menacingly, he is growling at my father:

"If you want to live, never touch her again. I will know, and I will find you, no matter where you are."

His voice is sending shivers down my back, and I know that I never want to be at the receiving end of his anger. But my father doesn't look impressed at all, instead, he is smirking , and a glitter is showing up in his eyes.

"Oh, I would not be too sure about that…"

I am terrified, and a mind-numbing fear is laming my muscles. Why is my father so self-confident? He must know something I don't know, because he definitely is no fool. Suddenly, I realize that a great part of the fear shaking me is caused by my new awareness. It is flowing in thick waves from him, and its power is stunning. 

Turning slightly in his grasp, I try to catch a look on his face. Finally succeeding, I almost wish I hadn'T. He looks unnaturally calm, like a machine, but his eyes are screaming. The pupils are so dilated that the light must hurt him badly, but he doesn't even blink.

He is staring blindly, and his expression looks completely dead to me. Only the flashes of fear and horror that come from him indicate that he is still alive, because he looks like a statue to me. His feelings are so strong that they are almost overwhelming me, and I can only watch as his right arm rises mechanically from my shoulder, pointing two fingers at my father. Then, there is a flash, and my father is collapsing with a hole in his chest. Vegeta has just killd him.

----------

Cursing my fate in all languages I know, I let the new emotions and sensations flood through me. Why does it have to be that way? Why do I have to get the most impossible luck to land on a planet filled with people whose genetic makeup is not only 99.9% the same as mine, but who are also capable of bonding to my race?

Damn it, why do I have to get stuck with some weaklings who are a disgrace to every Saiya-jin? The f***ing bond demands that I proceed on to the next step, but my honor as a warrior, as the King of the Saiya-jin, does not allow me to go through with it.

If I don't complete the mating ritual with her, she will always be a liability to me, but if I do, she will share my thoughts and bear my child.

Shit, I don't want my heir to be some weak half-breed that can't fight properly!

Huh? What is it now? A slapping sound brings me back from my cursing spree. Looking around, I see that she is holding her cheek and that she is staring in fear at the weakling who has sired her. Now with the bond letting me share her emotions, I experience the whole load of terror that her father is inspiring in her. That scene reminds me too much of my own past, and no matter how weak she might be – nobody deserves that. It seems that there are bastards anywhere.

Gripping her shoulders, I let the boiling anger and hatred within me surround us. How does such a weakling dare doing that to his own flesh and blood? Barely able to control myself, I manage to spit out a warning, but that doesn't seem to impress that human at all. Instead, he has a sly look on his face and replies:

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure about that…". Mumbling under his breath, he says something that human ears would not be able to pick up, but I can hear it, and it makes me freeze on the spot. "So, you are the dirty Saiya-jin that lizard was talking about…"

How does he know that? I thought this planet was completely cut off from all space travel? Then it is dawning on me. Despite all my attempts, Furiza must have found me. Shit, and I thought I had more time. I am still not ready to face him, and I don't know how long I will survive under his torture alone. I have to get away from here as fast as possible. 

Reacting completely on instinct, I eliminate the immediate threat to my life. Then, my brain kicks in again, and I realize that I have just gotten some more problems. 

Shit.

Cursing some more, I carefully grab the stunned woman and drag her behind me. I can't let her alone now, because she would report me to the authorities, and they would quickly make the connection to Furiza. 

Only stopping briefly to completely incinerate the lifeless body, I make her come with me to the hangar. She is still too stunned to protest, but I know that is going to change soon. Taking the opportunity, I rapidly ask her questions, confirming through our bond that she answers them truthfully.

"What are Saiya-jin?"

She just looks at me confused. Good. Next question.

"How far is space travel evolved?"

"Erh, we have sent lots of sattelites into orbit, but manned rockets have only landed on our moon."

Moon? Damn it, how could I have not realized that there is a moon? That would explain the fact that I have bonded to her today. Full moon always affects our mating urges, and I have been feeling the moon's pull for a few nights. I just did not recognize it for what it was. Damn it! But I have to keep questioning.

"What kind of satelites?"

"Telecommunications, telescopes, stuff like that. Say, where have you been living?"

Shit, she is getting her wits back, I got to hurry.

"Are some of them directed to outer space?"

She looks at me as if I had lost my mind. She must have sensed the importance of that question though because she answers it.

"Yes. Some are susceptible enough to pick up the background radiation in the cosmos. Why are you asking all those strange questions? Who are you anyways? And why did you kill my father?"

I perk up. So there is a possibility that Furiza has not landed here yet. He could have sent the message from beyond this solar system, but I have to make that cure before I start planning anything.

First, I have to decide4 what to do with the woman though. I can't let her go anymore, because she knows too much. So my only other option is completing my bond with her, as much as I loath that idea. But I can't force it on her, because both partners have to be willing and actively participate in the ritual. And having to hear the thoughts of somebody who hates you can be very distracting.

If she is willing though, she could be a great asset, because she has a technical education, and she is native to this planet. And when she has served her purpose, I can just leave her without hurting her or me severely. If I did that now, the uncompleted bond hanging between us would call us together to finish what we have started, and for some time, both of us wouldn't be able to think of anything else. I dan't afford that, so I have to go with the only other option.

She is still looking at me expectantly, and I dimly recall that she has asked me some questions. Putting everything on one card, I carefully formulate my answer.

"I presume that you would think me a lunatic when I told you I didn't come from this planet. But have you ever heard of humans forming an emotional bond like we have? This kind of emotional bond Is part of a ritual of my people to open up two people to each other and to enhance the understanding between them. The next step will allow me to show you all your answers directly, but it involves a lot of trust on both of our parts."

I can see how her mind is working to process the unexpected answer, and I prepare myself for her reaction. Finally, she is ready.

"If you were anybody else, I would send you to the next shrink. But it would explain many odd things I have noticed about you. Before I agree though, I want to know a few things. What does that next step contain? Will it be something like mind-reading? And why does it involve trust from both parties? And last but not least: Why me?"

This is the deciding point. I answer her questions as honestly as possible and hope that I can count on her curiosity.

"After the next step is completed, we will be able to read each other's minds. But during the process of what my people calls the Binding, our memories are shown to each other. That is why it involves so much trust. Why it was you? I am not completely sure. The bonding hit me as unexpectedly as you, as you might have read from my emotions. But it might have been the fact that we share a common past. I know how you feel about your father from my own experience. That is part of why I killed him. I can only estimate what he has done to you, but it cannot be much different from my past. I do not wish to show you my past, but I have run out of options, and you are the one who will understand me the best."

She has grown pale when I told her that I knew about her father, and she whispers softly:

"Show me how you felt the few hours after the first time…"

I guess I have to be the one who starts trusting, because I am the one who knows what is going on. I have never really forgotten the humiliation, the broken feeling, the helpless ness, and the pain, because it was there every time that son of a bitch did that to me, but the first time had been the worst. I didn't want to live with that sort of humiliation, how could I be the Prince of Saiyans when I couldn't even protect myself? I felt dirty, used, numb with shock, replaying the event a thousand times in my mind, not quite believing that it had happened. I had not felt any horror or anger yet, I was too drained and too hurt for any strong feelings; I just wanted to shut everything out and retreat into my own, small shell where nobody could touch me.

From far, I hear an anguished voice calling me, and I open my eyes which I don't recall having closed.

"Stop it, Vegeta! Stop it!!"

She is crying, hitting me with her tiny fists, but slinging to me at the same time. Taking a deep breath, I shut my feelings away like I have done so many times. Sending her as many positive emotions as I am capable of at the moment, I wait until she calms down.

Slowly, her sobs are subsiding, and she is just holding onto my jacket as if her life depended on it. Carefully, I open her fists and wait until she looks at me again.

"I trusted you. Will you trust me in return?"

----------

Do I trust him enough to let hem see every humiliating detail of my past? I feel ashamed, and I don't want to show him how weak I really am, but hasn't he already shown me some of his weaknesses?

Gradually, I bow my head in a very small nod, and I can immediately feel the relief oozing from his every pore. Looking up into his eyes, I ask him what I would do.

"Mark me."

Mark him with what? What does he mean by that? He seems to be pretty confused by the fact that I don't know what he is talking about. Finally, he answers hesistantly:

"Is it not custom here to give a child its Mark when they reach adulthood?"

"What kind of mark?"

In response, he unbuttons his Hemd and shows me the strange scar right over his heart.

"That is my Mark. It means everything what I am: Vegeta, King of the Saiya-jin. Tradition demands that I give it to you while you give yours to me."

Gulping, I look at the scar. Yes, it looks much too beautiful to be an accident. Do I have to get one of those, too? I don't think I could stand the pain. I still trust him, but that doesn't mean I can't be afraid.

"I have never been given such a mark, but I have a sign that means my name. Will that be sufficient?"

"No. It has to be connected to you, it has to be you. A name is not what you are. You will be able to feel the difference, but you will have to trust me completely. Usually, the Naming would be done by a parent, a sibling, or a close friend, somebody whom you already trust. But now, I am the only one who can do it. Don't be afraid, it is not what you think. Trust will keep the pain away."

This is the first time when it dawns on me that he really is not human, but now, it is too late to back out. I have committed myself to this, and I won't allow myself to retreat, as frightened as I may be. How will trust keep the pain away? Swallowing audibly, I nod and whisper:

"Go ahead."

Then, I tense up and prepare for the pain. I can feel his frustration when he harshly demands:

"Look up. Look into my eyes."

Following his instructions, I gasp in surprise. Both of his hands grasp my head and hold it in place. His stare is fixating me while his fingers are nimbly working strange patterns over my neck. I feel my eyelids getting heavier, but his stare seems to burn into me, the only thing that feels real while my body is becoming more distant. I t is not like going numb, it is more that it is not important anymore. His voice is drilling deep down into my innermost core.

"WHO ARE YOU?"

Something deep down inside me starts to vibrate, trying to come out. From a distance, I hear myself say something, but it is not until everything is said that I actually understand what I said.

"Saiya, Queen of the Atorantisu-jin."

He seems to be as surprised as I am, but the distance makes it seem unimportant. My back is pulsing in some places, and the throbbing becomes more violent as a flaming symbol appears before my closed eyes. It is growing brighter in its intensity, almost burning my eyelids. Dimly, I hear his voice and obey its every command.

"Saiya, Queen of the Atorantisu-jin, turn around and receive your mar,."

A burning sensation is digging into my back, and I feel that he is tracing out the very same symbol that I see in front of my eyes. Strangely, I don't mind the pain, it rather feels as if I was freeing some part of myself. I know exactly when he is done, because the flaming symbol in front of my eyes disappears within an instant, and I wake up suddenly like after a dream. 

My back is hurting, but to an extent that I am used to. Taking a few deep breaths, I try to understand what has just happened. That symbol had seemed so familiar, as if I had known it for my entire life, and even beyond that. It feels so right to bear it between my shoulder blades, but it is only the outward sign of so much more… what, I don't know. How, I'm not sure. But it definitely is there, no matter if I understand it or not.

Turning around, I face Vegeta again. I try to consciously project my gratitude to him, because words are just not enough. He has given me a new name, one that is not linked to all the pain in my past. I thing he understands, as he only nods and holds his right palm out to me. On his palm, there is a small knife, and I understand. He repeats his words.

"Mark me."

Then, he turns the inside of his wrist towards me. Now I understand why so much trust is involved in this ritual. One wrong move, and I could accidentally hit an artery or cut some tendons. 

Steadying his wrist with my left hand, I pick up the knife he offers and cut him. Blood is welling forth on both sides of the blade, and its deeply red color entrances me. While I am carving my symbol into his skin, I become aware of something flowing through my body, through the knife into his body. 

Risking a glance into his face, I realize that he has his head thrown back and that he is staring ahead without seeing anything. The blood is flowing steadily, and I keep tracing the symbol, not caring if I get his blood onto my clothes.

Finally, I am done and lift the knife away. Something tells me though that I am not completely finished yet. Acting purely on instinct, I grasp the wrist I have just injured tightly in my right hand, my palm pressing on the mark.

Opening and closing my mouth a few times, I am struggling to get the right words, but suddenly, I know what to say.

"Vegeta, King of the Saiya-jin, you are Marked. No other woman has the right to touch you, as well as you don't have the right to touch any other woman. By the law of our people, you are mine."

I feel that I did the right thing, and I can feel that Vegeta's mind is returning to the present again. With unreadable eyes, he is staring down at me for some long seconds. Then, he nods slowly, and I let go of his wrist. It has already stopped bleeding and looks as if it was a few days old. But I can't let my mind wander like that now. Instead, I pick up the knife and offer it to him like he had done for me.

"Mark me."

He refuses to take it though, he just grasps my wrist in his left hand to steady it. Then, he puts his right palm over it, and suddenly, a burning pain is tearing into my skin. I automatically flinch away, but his grip has become as hard as iron. The burning and the searing is growing stronger, and I have to bite my tongue to keep myself from screaming. It feels as if he was trying to cut off my hand, and the pain is radiating up my arm, making all my muscles cramp in agony. Finally, the world turns pitch-black, and I stop thinking.

When I open my eyes again, everything is in a blur. I try blinking, but the picture in front of my eyes doesn't come into focus. Waving my hand around, I can only see it as a strange shape dancing back and forth. If I hadn't known this was my hand, I would not have recognized it. Suddenly, I can hear some voices coming closer, and they sound familiar, but I can't understand them.

Then, a bright oval is looming over me, topped with some dark thing. A face. A huge face. The person who this face belongs to picks me up, and I am securely nestled into the crook of an elbow. Automatically, I wrap my tail around that arm.

Tail?

A furry extention of my spinal chord.

A tail.

My tail.

In horror, I watch the images in front of my eyes become clearer. This room does not look like any room built on earth. There are too many alien devices around for that. And the people are huge, all dressed in some strange clothes! Have I been abducted by aliens? Have they done experiments with me so that I have a tail? Swallowing my fear, I look around to see if I can find any familiar faces, but nobody is here that I know.

Well, actually, the man standing in the corner of the room, scowling, he looks like a monster version of Vegeta, at least twenty feet tall. The woman carrying me shows me to the Vegeta-look-alike, and to my amazement, he also unfolds a long furry tail, gathering me up in a loop of it. The tail has been wrapped around his waist before, so I thought it was a belt, but it actually is a tail.

A sudden realization strikes me. Vegeta also has a tail, I have just never recognized it for what it was.

My alien-theory seems to verify itself, and I start trembling. Well, at least, I want to start trembling, but my body doesn't. Fearfully, I look into those onyx black eyes staring at me, and I have to gulp when the man/alien starts talking.

"Hereby, I name you Vegeta of the House Vegeta, crown prince of Vegeta-sei. Honor your House and become the strongest warrior of all."

I am so perplexed that I don't even protest when he hands me back to the woman who has picked me up first. He tells her:

"Get him an armor and bring him to my private training room. I want to get started with him as soon as possible."

With those words, the man vanishes out of a door I have previously not seen and leaves me alone with the woman. What the hell is going on here? Why did that guy call my 'Vegeta, crown prince of Vegeta-sei'?

Well, suddenly, that alien-theory doesn't make that much sense anymore. But what else is happening?

The last thing I know before waking up here is Vegeta and me doing some strange kind of bonding ritual because Vegeta said that it was the only possibility for me to understand his past.

My stomach is sinking down to my knees. Perhaps those people aren't giants. Perhaps those people are only as tall as Vegeta, and it is me who is so small. Perhaps this is … Vegeta's memory…

Intrigued, I watch the woman coming back with a small version of the armor the man had worn, and now, I suddenly realize that Vegeta had worn a similar style. She is dressing me as I have next to no control over my limbs. Yes, this must be one of Vegeta's first memories, as a toddler.

Happy to finally get to know more about that man, I lay back and try to enjoy the ride. But all too soon, I see the horror's of Vegeta's past. 

I am only an observer, but I feel what Vegeta is feeling, and the longer it lasts, the more am I thinking what Vegeta is thinking. The years spent with merciless training from his father and several elite soldiers were painful, but the real pain was just starting.

I see his first meeting with Furiza, and if it was me in control of his body, Vegeta would have lost his lunch at the disgusting sight. As it is now, he only swallows his fear, keeping his stomach under tight control when the lizard-like alien picks up a smaller, almost frog-like alien and reps him apart, never heeding the screams of pain and terror.

From that point on, horrors followed upon even bigger horrors, and pain is only swallowed by even greater pain. In my mind, I start screaming, wanting to get out, desperately pleading for the memories to stop. But I am forced to watch it all, to feel it all, to suffer through it all. And gradually, I am loosing my sanity. 

In a brief lucid moment, I wonder how Vegeta could have endured that torture without breaking, but then, the images drown me again, and my mind is weakening. Pictures of unbearable horrors are flying by me, and I can't turn away. I try so hard, but I can't. 

After a timeless infinity of unimaginable pain and agony, the memories slowly abate, leaving me shaking so hard that I almost can't stand anymore. A voice is surrounding me, slowly dragging me out of this nightmare. I can feel tears running down my face, and I have to fight to not loose consciousness. Desperately, I focus on the tone, taking refuge in the calm words.

"Saiya, Queen of the Atorantisu-jin, you are Marked. No other man has the right to touch you, as well as you don't have the right to touch any other man. By the law of our people, you are mine."

Not being able to bear the emotional pain from Vegeta's past anymore, I collapse into his arms, crying for his and my loss. He merely sits down on the floor with me, wrapping his tail around my waist, holding me. Just before I exhaustedly fall asleep in his arms, I feel a single drop of water on my face. For the first time in his life, Vegeta has shed a tear.

----------

A/N: Erhm, normally, I hate sappy ending, but I this time, couldn't help myself. I also didn't have time anymore to proof-read it, so if there are any logical or grammatical mistakes – I would be glad if you could point them out to me.

Well, now that the two of them are together, the real action can begin! But I am afraid to tell you that the next chapter probably won't come out anytime soon, because in a month, I am doing my A-levels, and I have to study for that – a lot. Until next time!


	7. Mating

**Mating**

I wake up, looking into his eyes. He is still holding me securely in his strong arms, his warm, furry tail wrapped around me. The darkness of the hangar tells me that it hasn't started dawning yet. My watch says that it is quarter to three a.m., which seems really strange. So little time has passed. I can't have slept for more than ten, twenty minutes at most, but I feel rested somehow. Memories of what has happened rush back to me, and it takes me several minutes to realize that I am now bonded, yes, almost married to the handsome alien holding me. And that he can read my thoughts now.

Blushing, I try to look away, but he doesn't let me. His eyes are coal black, staring into mine with some indefinable feeling. It is not pity that he has for me, it is not compassion either. I think it is some kind of twisted respect that I get, because he knows how hard it is to stay sane with experiences like I had in my childhood. To not retreat into your mind and become a worthless shell of a human being. He reaches out to me with his mind, silently, but I can feel his thoughts as clearly as if they were mine. 'You know what we have to do next.'

Strange that I have no problems seeing him although it is much too dark to perceive anything else than vague shapes and forms. Oh, I think it might be the echo of his senses that I can feel. Does he really have such a good night-vision?

He doesn't repeat his statement; he merely keeps looking at me as if he could drill a hole into my soul. Blood is dripping from his wrist, dripping onto my shoulder, reminding me of what I have endured. And of what will inevitably happen. It is eerie how calmly I can think about the very action that has always been torture for me so far. Somehow, I am completely devoid of fright and of panic. Perhaps it is my sleep-riddled mind, perhaps it is something else, perhaps the last effects of going through his life in one short instance. I am dazed, but I feel secure in his presence. Although he is a man, he can touch me without any alarms going off in my head.

Silently, I reach up to his face, trailing my fingers over his cheek, and I realize that the mark between my shoulder blades is hurting badly. But I am used to the pain, so I tune it out as best as I can.

Apparently, he has followed my thoughts because he smiles, quietly promising to be gentle. But there is no other way left for us than the ritual.

Somewhere deep inside him, there lies hesitation and doubt, as big as mine. But together, we will… what? Heal each other? No, I don't think that's it. I think we will just come out of this unharmed, physically - well, if you don't count the ritual marks on both of our arms and my back - and psychically - I guess.

His hand reaches up and rests against my neck; a quiet statement that I'm different form all those earthlings crossing his mind. I try to smile, but I can't. A knot inside me is preventing me from responding. Apparently, I am not as calm as I'd like to be.

Putting an arm around my waist, he hoists me up as he gets to his feet. Until now, I haven't even realized how cold the floor is, wrapped in his arms as I have been. He guides me to one side of the hangar where there are some wooden crates stacked onto each other, and to my surprise, there is a small space between the crates and the wall of the hangar, just big enough for two people to walk there comfortably. It is so dark in here that even the strange night-vision I have gained refuses to work properly, making me stumble along besides him. Then, he stops suddenly and grabs for something I can't see. Trying to peek into his mind, I manage to grasp the unclear picture of a military-issued blanket before he erects some barriers. Man, that's really useful if you don't want to have everybody look at your thoughts. I'd better learn that, too!

His motions tell me that he is spreading the blanket (how he had known it was there is still a mystery to me) on the floor, and he urges me to sit down. When we both are comfortable stretched out on the blanket, he draws me closer, folding his arms around me and holding me, mindful of my injuries. Slowly, he lowers the shields around his mind, deepening our bond once again. His thoughts are not demanding, not trying to force me along faster than I am ready. However, in the back-ground, there always lurks the permanent threat of Furiza coming to earth. He must either be gone before that, or he has to be able to fight Furiza, which, as I have gathered, is nearly impossible, so strong is he.

Well, I guess one of us has to start, so it's me who tentatively makes contact with his lips. He seems startled, but as he is sharing my thoughts, he lets me continue, curious as to what is going to happen. Our lips touch, and mustering all my knowledge about kissing (not that I've done it before, but I've read enough books and listened to enough friends that I know what I'm doing. Well, theoretically…) I try opening my mouth a little bit, my tongue tasting his lips. They are a little bit salty, but quite neutral in taste. Becoming a little bit bolder, I try to get more of his taste, surely he tastes of something, but all I get is some spicy smell.

Suddenly, I realize what I am smelling when his hand comes closer to my face. It is his blood, red and warm, that smells spicy with a touch of copper in it.

Well, I think now I would be convinced that he's an alien if I hadn't already been convinced before, because I have seen and smelled enough blood in my job as a doctor (not a small portion of it my own) to know that human blood smells different. Curious, I remove my lips from his and turn my attention toward his wrist, licking up the thin droplets that ooze out of the cut. It tastes as spicy as it smells, but the hint of metal has become stronger, mixed with salt and… It is something that I've never tasted before, I can not name it. He does not flinch when my tongue moves over the cuts, but I can feel the small sparks of pain he experiences. Not wanting to hurt him at all, I return to his lips, and slowly, very slowly, his mouth opens, too, licking the last remains of his blood from my lips. For the first time, our tongues touch, and both of us recoil from the shock of the sensation.

It is not something I could describe, but his tongue feels so different from all I've tasted. Maybe it's the fact that it is wet and soft, but agile at the same time. And it is moving. I think that is what has startled me the most. I think it is the first time I have had something moving of its own will in my mouth, and that's scary. Nonetheless, I try again, a little bit bolder this time.

Getting more daring, I dive deeper and deeper into his mouth; somehow I want nothing more than touching his tongue, as strange and slippery as it feels, touching his palate, touching every corner of his mouth, especially those he can't reach well with his own tongue because they taste so sweet. Somewhere in the middle of all that, I remember that I ought to breathe, too, but I am strangely reluctant to let my air flow through him; it might spoil his taste. He solves my problem by pulling away slightly. I think he feels my disappointment because I get some amusement from him in response.

I shared his memory of his experience with Radditz, so I know what he is calling on now to help us get further along. Gathering myself for what he is about to do, I follow him into the remembrance of the one time that sex has not meant pain. He is virtually projecting his experience to me, calming me with the soft sense of arousal that had been churning in his guts during that one night on Furiza's ship. I bask in its warmth, letting the feelings flow through me until I think I am drowning.

Experimentally, he slips a hand under my shirt, letting it wander over my body, and when I say over my body, I really mean over my body. There is about half an inch separating his skin from mine, his fingers spread slightly, concentration on his face. Through our link, I feel that it would be bad to disturb him now, so I merely keep watching him. My skin beneath his hand starts tingling slightly, the little hairs rising as if seeking the touch of his hand. What in the world is … he doing …

Suddenly, he picks me up and turns me over onto my stomach, and despite the fact that I can feel him through our bond, a nervous coil in my guts tightens more and more. I try consciously relaxing my muscles, but when I'm working on one group, the others are already knotted together once more. Perhaps it is the sudden lack of my shirt that has caused the reaction, but if we don't get down to the basics, we will never be finished here. At least, I can keep myself from fidgeting too much. Luckily, he has enough insight into me to not touch me to hold me down; that would have made me panic faster than anything in this vulnerable position.

His hand does the same as before, wandering over my back with less than an inch of air between our skins, and the tingling comes back almost immediately, centered along my shoulders for the moment. To my astonishment, it doesn't make me more tense but nearly forces my body to unclench by the pressure that is somehow transmitted through that non-touch. He seems to sense my confusion and sends something back that I don't completely understand; the information is so complex and alien that the nearest thing I can compare it to would be manipulation of life force, but on some level deeper than I've ever heard of before.

Nonetheless, I find myself enjoying it more and more, and when his hand finally brushes my spine at the small of my back, I suck in my breath sharply at the sudden electricity spreading from that simple point of contact, flowing down my sides to trickle deep into my body, centering into a feeling that leaves me breathless with its tingling energy. From him reverberates the same feeling, which only intensifies mine in turn, letting a shiver pool between us.

Slowly, he pushes an arm under my hips and waist, somehow managing to brush over a spot on my lower belly where there is some instant connection to the sparks spreading from his single digit at the small of my back. Breath hitches in my throat, and I can't help but writhe into his hands, the suddenly unbearable tension demanding that I do something to relieve it, to make it spread even lower … something …

A soft brush of cloth as he pulls down my pants and panties tries to call me back to reality – when has he gotten rid of his own clothes? -, but the growing urge that bounces between us through our link ruthlessly squashes the fear that some part of my brain has produced in a fit of memory. I can feel that he is still tentatively holding on to the memory of the night with Radditz because of the security and the assurance it gives us. However; I don't want to make my first night to a cheap copy of another one, so I try to make it unique by taking the initiative. Turning my head towards him, I find myself met by a spicy mouth, and this time, I do not hesitate to breathe through him, the air coming from deep inside his body streaming out through my mouth and nose as my arms thread around his neck; the sore wrist I have so far managed to forget brushing in a spark of sensation against the mark I have left on him, the contact forging a wide, open path snaking along the link connecting us.

Sensations are growing within me, spreading along the awareness of his body, his senses, primal, raw, angry. The memory of his time with Radditz is fleeting at best compared to the burst of connection we experience.

Hunger.

An unbearable hunger is welling up, charging from me into him into me again, intensifying with each passing second until both of us are panting harshly.

It is getting more and more difficult separating our minds, but my last thought as an individual is that I don't mind. I loose myself into the sensations spiraling within our bodies, instincts taking over until the world is bathed into hazy red flames. We don't know anymore whose hunger it is – both ours – as we are one being, burning with need.

Time ceases and it's not important anymore whose hunger it is. Primal fire dancing in our souls, spreading into our limbs, into the center of our bodies, making us warm, hard, wet, needy…

Important to get something – relief, food, satisfaction, whatever…

Snapping for air in a joined movement, rolling around to quench the thirst of the flames – fire marking some secret …

More energy flowing through us than ever before – sharing our ki and our mind while moving to share our bodies, two halves finally so close together that they feel the pull on their souls. Moving to share the heat, hard legs and trembling arms wrapping around each other, tongues sharing an intimate battle in a motion to become one, and then …

The world spiraling out of control as hard and soft, smooth and wet, flesh and soul finally meet in a burst of stars dancing through the single mind of the being forced into two halves –

The heat flowing unhindered from one to the other, from the depths of one body to the other and back again –

Unfettered bliss erasing all traces of memory of more violent encounters as the two bodies strive to become even closer –

Feathery touches starting at the base of the skull, gradually tingling lower and lower –

Heat building, fingers flexing and curling into themselves agonizingly slow –

Tingling lower, gasping - …

… - flexing - …

… - finally meeting in a - …

… - shudder - …

… - … - …

* * *

When the haze of bliss finally leaves my brain, the woman lying next to me is watching me in wonder, not quite believing that she can feel so good. That experience was more than overwhelming to me, and I'd already had a taste of what sex can be like. To her, it must have been completely mind-blowing.

But one thing is strange: In the heat of the moment, I've used far more of my strength than I intended to, but her frail body's not hurt. I'd feel it through our bond if it were so. I seem to recollect that I was trembling from exertion, using much more strength than for that small blast that had killed that weakling bastard of a father, but there are no signs of injury on her. Perhaps that's a side-effect of the bond.

Slowly, she is finding enough coherency to form words, slowly speaking them as if she were afraid of her own voice. "Now the bond's complete, isn't it?"

I nod, but in my thoughts, I already am with Furiza, the SOB that is coming after me. She seems to have followed me because she offers to build me a training room where I can prepare, but she also reads my hesitation correctly. „You don't think you can defeat him, do you?"

Shaking my head slowly, I tell her that not even 10 years of training would be enough to bring me up to a strength where I could think about defeating him.

She follows my thoughts once again. "You want me to build a new space vessel, don't you? But, even with the resources I have, that would be impossible because our technology is not so far as to allow more than short trips to our moon."

Shaking my head, I give her a peak at the knowledge about space travel I have, making her inhale sharply. "Well, I think I can construct you something like that, but it will take me half a year at least. These really are some fascinating concepts…"

I am thoroughly alarmed, and I can't help but letting her feel it. "Half a year is too long. He can be here within three months."

She winces. "Then what do you propose should we do?"

Furiously, I am trying to think, and I can feel her mind touching mine to follow. I wonder how well she understands my thoughts because I am trying to calculate distances, thinking of planets that are within reach but do not have any communication with Furiza, searching for a way to fix my space-pod. I am thinking in a mixture of pictures, concepts that are probably very alien to her, and numerous different languages. Finally, she interrupts me. "If I understand you correctly, there is a chance of repairing the ship you came here with so that we can escape this planet and see if we are more lucky elsewhere. And no, you are NOT going to leave me behind because your Furiza will come here, and I am sure he won't leave until he has thoroughly searched the planet, and I have a pretty good idea of what he is going to do with me if he finds me. So either plan for two or not at all, capiche?"

Gritting my teeth, I have to strain to keep myself from blasting her in anger because she is right, as much as I dislike the idea. Mockingly, I ask: „So, how do you suggest are we going to proceed?"

Looking at me, she counters: "Can you visualize the parts you need to repair your ship? Emphasize all the important properties, and I will see if I can find a replacement. But first of all, we have to straighten things out. There weren't any cameras in my lab, so we're lucky on that account. But my father will be reported missing within the next few hours. We mustn't be tied to his disappearance because being involved in a court trial would be the worst thing that could happen to us at the moment."

Sensing the worry lying beneath her calm façade, I cannot help but admire her somewhat for her level-headedness in this situation. I should have known that they have some laws against killing on this weakling planet, and that they would enforce them. Still, no one on this puny planet can stand up to my power. "They can't hurt us."

She shakes her head. "No, I don't think they can physically hurt you. I am a completely different matter though, and it would be very bad if they charged us with murder." She looks away, trying to compose herself again. Shakily, she continues. "That would cut off all my connections to Capsule Corporation. Sure, we can find some parts in stores and steal them, but with CC backing me, I can do much more. With your technology so advanced, I am sure we do not have the parts you need, but I can try and manufacture them in CC."

Yes, I don't think I could have found a better mate on this mudball. What she sorely lacks in fighting abilities, she makes up for with her mind. Did I really plan for leaving her behind? I think I didn't have an idea how closely the bond would link us, and I underestimated her cunning. If she weren't that weak, she would be the perfect mate. "What do you have to do to gain those resources?"

She props her chin onto her hand. "Well, first of all, we have to make sure we don't become suspects. Are there any residues left that could be traced to you?"

"Perhaps some burn marks on the floor. But only experts with lots of ki-experience can identify the remaining ki, and it is almost impossible to track it back to a certain person."

I hear her thoughts as clearly as if they were mine. She thinks that the burn marks can be explained with a lab accident, and then she sinks into self-pity because she is helping to cover up a murder. Feh, if she plans on staying with me, she should better get rid of such weakling sentiments. Suddenly, a flash of adrenaline shoots through her veins. "Say, Vegeta, does your spaceship have any cloaking that makes it invisible to radar waves?"

Seeing what she is getting at, I shake my head. "Its cloaking systems were inactive because of heavy damage."

She frowns. "Damn. I'm sure you popped up on one radar screen or another, and now the government will already be looking for it. We have to be quick to get it before they do."

My decision to make her my mate was a good one. "Do you know of any place where I can hide my spacepod?"

"Sure. CC has lots of hangars, and I am sure I can clear one out. How big is it, and do you need any help of getting it out of wherever you crashed?"

Having gained a little bit of insight into the measuring systems of their world, I can give a more or less accurate estimate. "It is a sphere of 2-3 meters in diameter. And no, I will be able to transport it on my own."

She looks at me with an unbelieving face, and I can clearly hear the 'so small' she is broadcasting. In response, I imagine myself standing next to my space-pod, making her wonder in amazement. "That's really no problem to store. But how can you fit a person in there, let alone two?"

I have to growl angrily. It wasn't my fault that I crashed here on this thrice-cursed mudball, and I surely didn't intend to come back with a mate. "It was never intended to hold more than one person. But with proper modifications, there should be enough space for a puny female like you."

She bristles in anger, almost bursting to insult me back. Smirking, I watch her grit her teeth until she finally shoves the seething away to come back to our primary problems. "Ok, buster, enough for now. As soon as they realize that my father's vanished, they will start looking for him. I think, after a week or so, they will ask me to cover for him until he's back. Until then, we have to hope that nobody finds your spacepod. And in the meantime, we will start figuring out what things you need to repair your ship with. So, and now I think it's high time that I get back into my room so that Kelly and Chrystal won't file a missing person report. Oh, and don't be surprised if somebody asks you about me being your girl-friend. Just say yes, don't hurt those who don't like that too much, and everything will be fine. That's much easier than explaining that we have mated."

Who does she think she is? Telling me what to do? Through our bond, she has to know that I am less than happy with her, but she never gives any indication thereof as she dresses herself and goes looking for the exit. As much as I want to punish her for her impertinence, I have to admit though that she is the local expert, and that she probably knows what she is talking about. Still, pretending that my mate is nothing more than an object to relieve my lust with is more than disgusting.

Dressing in the hideous clothes they gave me to go with my job, I angrily think of all the males with absolutely no self-restraint. I just know that they are waiting for me to admit even the slightest tie to the woman. I swear, they are even more infuriating than those herds of females gossiping about me on that bastard's ship. At least they never did it right in my face. I swear, if I were able to leave this puny low-tech-dirt-ball tomorrow, it would still be not soon enough. Damned weaklings.

* * *

A/N: Yes, I am still alive. Here's the lemon scene that gave me so much trouble. I hope that neither one of them got out of character. Well, now that the morning after's dealt with as well, the next chapter should not take another year to post.

**To DBZFanfictionQueen:** Nope, neither am I dead nor did I fall off the face of the planet. For Bulma's father: I intended to have him 'visit' his daughter for some brief 'stress relief', and perhaps I didn't tell that clearly enough. When I go back at the end of the story to revise all chapters once again, I will fix that mistake, but for now, I'm more busy with at least TRYING to finish the story. I hope you're not too disappointed.

**To saiyan-dragon365;** Sorry to disappoint you there: I couldn't leave out the sex. And, in my opinion, the marking is just some stylized form of biting as both involve blood… Well, the next chapter should come out sooner now that I'm done with the really tricky parts. I try to not make you wait for another year, lol!

**To SESwing:** Thank you very much! I passed my A-levels with flying colors, and now I'm in college. I honestly try to write the next chapter sooner so that your patience won't be worn thin!

**To SaIlOr-EaRtH-001:** Thank you!

**To littlehighboy01: **Great to have such a dedicated fan! Thanks for the praise!

**To Evil Saint:** Didn't you just review my fanfic on too? I don't know what I did to receive the honor of 2 reviews for one chapter! Thank you very mouch!

**To Kelly:** If gay is supposed to mean homosexual content – I certainly didn't make any references to that except for the one night with Radditz, and I didn't spend a lot of detail on that. But if gay is supposed to mean happy, then I'm really offended! I did not intend to write a humorous story! And if you are not able to tell me anything more informative than 'This fic sucks, go to hell with your crappy writing abilities', I will certainly not change anything with the story or my writing style.

**To (whoever that was):** Yes, I am aware of the concept of most stories that everything has to become worse before it gets better, and I don't think I can break away from that traditional form, try as I might. But be assured that I will do everything in my might to not make the story predictable!

**To FlamerCerberus:** What would you say if I told you I wasn't an 'onna' but an 'otoko'? Lol, just kidding. Yeah, I'm ok, just a really bad case of writer's block.

**To ellie:** thanks!

**To Carla121:** Thanks for the praise, I tried my best to keep them with the personalities from the show. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**To Kegger007:** Thanks so much for sticking to me throughout so many stories (and so few updates of Rebirth)! I'm sorry for never answering to your reviews to all of my GW-shortstories, but I have to tell you I really appreciate them a lot. I'm already looking forward to your next review – or your next update of Zoids Neo Slash Zero, whichever comes first. Thanks again!


	8. Transition

**A/N:**

I am very sorry for the long time gap, but I have finally realized that this story is dead to me. I haven't actively written anything for this story anymore for the past year, so it is better to declare this story eternally unfinished.

But as I have said that I would complete this story no matter what, I have found a small compromise: In this chapter, I will post all prewritten snippets I still have on my computer, and the next chapter will be the rest of the storyline in quick-time. I fear that if I really wanted to write everything out, it would take me another 40,000 words and another 4 years.

Perhaps, some time in the future, I will come back to this story and revise the first chapters, and then, maybe, continue the story. For now though I can only give you this. I want to thank everyone for their nice reviews, and I hope that you aren't too disappointed.

Sakiku

**Kegger007:**

Lol, I guess that both of us are slow updaters,g. Ever going to work on your Zoid-fanfic again? I finally realized that Rebirth was too big a project for me, and now I'm going to end it. It makes me sad to officially say good bye to this story, but secretly, I have already written it off, so no more chapters. Thank you very much for sticking with me throughout the story and for all your other very encouraging reviews!

**Queen000, Vampiress-06, Vegge's Mate, forever-ryoka, ShinkuKihaku, Arin Ross, elvenangel, PrplButrfly, silverluna: **

Well, another year past. And this time, I have the courage to end it . Sorry for making all of you wait for such a long time. Thanks for your great reviews, but I fear that I have to disappoint you. These two chapters will be the last ones.

* * *

**Transition**

„Yes, Sir".

Private Sandler saluted before Mr. Vegeta, who nodded in return. Only when the gruff instructor didn't look at him anymore with his scary, black eyes did he relax out of his attention position and cradled his nearly dislocated wrist. The training had become much more intense and much harsher after Vegeta-sensei had taken over, but the rate of injury had also gone down considerably.

Hand-to-hand combat was as feared as ever, but for different reasons as before. Instructor Vegeta was merciless in his taunting and training, pushing them to their limits and beyond. But he had good knowledge of what their bodies were capable of and he was surprisingly well-versed in treating accidents that happened despite everything, and the way he seemed to be everywhere at once helped prevent most injuries, just like his nearly dislocate wrist.

Vegeta had stopped his partner just before he could actually try to pull off the move that would have definitely resulted in a hospital trip for him. The tongue-lashing had been scathing, and his partner had gained the misfortune of having to spar an extra round against Vegeta-sensei.

Usually, once a week, everybody had to do a one-on-one with Vegeta-sensei, and the others had to watch and spot the mistakes. Everybody dreaded those moments because he was unbeatable. His reactions were so fast that every punch that landed was allowed to land. Most of the time though, he kept on dodging and limited himself to pointing out all openings by 'lightly' touching them. It didn't matter that most of the time, a 'light' touch resulted in a bruise the size of a fist that hurt for days, because for instructor Vegeta to consider something as an injury, it had to be at least severely sprained, broken, or bleeding.

Judging from his scars, he knew quite a bit about how those injuries hurt first-hand, so nobody dared complain when he was a little bit rougher than they wanted him to. After all, they were soldiers.

Afterwards, in the showers, Lexter came up to him.

"Have you heard the news?"

Lexter was nearly 6'8, blond, and bulky. The typical model for school-yard-bully. Lexter also was a very likable guy, one of his closest friends.

"What news?"

As the showers were all lined up on the wall without any separating walls, they could comfortably talk over the spray.

"The president of CC's missing, that's been all over the news! They've got no ransom demands, no nothing, but they suspect it's a kidnapping. I think they've sent a whole team of specialists to look for him."

"Briefs senior is missing? When did that happen?"

"Nobody's seen him since yesterday afternoon when he had arrived back in his hotel room after some conference. Since then, he's been gone. Imagine the trouble CC must be in right now! Their stocks are already plummeting; Dr. Briefs is the one who's made all those inventions, and without him CC's practically headless!"

"Really? There goes my money… Do you think our Dr. Briefs is related to the CC-family?"

"You mean Dr. Bulma Briefs? She's his daughter, but after some family dispute, she didn't want to have anything to do with CC anymore. That was huge in the media a few years ago. Say, where have you been living?"

"Hey, I don't read the tabloids like you do! Can't blame me for not being up to date with all that gossip. So what's CC going to do now?"

"No idea. Perhaps they're going to try and get Bulma Briefs back, perhaps they're trying to look for another manager. I've got no clue."

"Well, I bet that Mr. Vegeta's going to be pissed then. I've heard she's stitched him back together, and ever since, he's got a thing for her blue hair."

"Feh, tough luck! You know women: When there are lots of men around, they either turn into sluts or ice maidens. She's so cold that her blue hair is still the warmest thing of her!"

Together, they laughed. It was an on-going bet: the one who got the doctor first would win a pool that was almost 800 dollars by now. Many had approached her, but all advances had expertly been shot down by her.

"Maybe she prefers women?"

Sandler sputtered. "Oh, come on, you can't be serious! Hand me the soap, please."

Lexter merely shrugged. "Well, have you ever seen her smile at a man in a non-professional manner? Not even Brad's best attempt worked, and he went to her with a really serious cut. He never even got to first base."

Rolling his eyes, Sandler shook his head. "That doesn't mean she's gay. Maybe she's just… timid."

A barking laugh reverberated from white-tiled walls. "Her? And timid? I think she's seen all that men can offer, and then some. She must have seen virtually half the base naked. If that doesn't spark interest, then I don't know."

Sandler merely sighed. "Shut up, you're just sore that she doesn't like tall, blond, muscled brutes like you. And just for your information: Weapons starts in ten minutes, so I'd hurry if I were you!"

Lexter yelped, and together they quickly left the showers.

* * *

Coming fresh out of an emergency surgery - an inflamed appendix - I haven't even finished getting out of my shrubs when a Private barges in and tells me that someone from the police is waiting to talk to me. Quickly, I grab my uniform, the one I hoped I could leave without today, and follow the man. He leads me to an official reception room, where he quietly excuses himself.

Two official-looking men, one in suit, one in uniform – not military – are already waiting for me, and once they see me, the uniformed one asks whether he is talking to Bulma Briefs. He is roughly 6 feet tall, navy-blue uniform with a sheriff's star right over his heart. I show him my identification, and he smiles apologetically. They both introduce themselves, him as police chief Michael Keys, the other one as Shiro Hashimura, a lawyer of my father. The more fatherly-looking police officer gently tells me to sit down.

"Miss Briefs, we regret to bring you bad news from your father. He has been missing for two days, and we haven't found him yet."

Sighing, I brush a hand through my hair. Finally, they have approached me; I've been wondering how long it would take them. All day long yesterday, I was trying to imagine what this encounter would be like, trying to imagine what I would say. I had thought of tons of reactions, from hysterically crying to stoic acceptance to laughing into their faces. But now, everything is gone in face of the chief of police and my father's attorney, and I play it by ear.

"You haven't found him yet? That's not good. Where could he have gone?"

The police chief shakes his head.

"We are very sorry, Miss Briefs, but we haven't found any tracks yet. We don't even know yet if he has been kidnapped or not."

"Thank you for telling me, Mr. Keys. I am sure you will do everything in your might to find him. I just hope it's not too late."

Now, the attorney enters the discussion.

"We hope so, too, Miss Briefs. But at the moment, it is more important that Capsule Corporation's continued existence is assured. As nobody knows of Mr. Brief's current status, his will cannot be opened yet. I am sure you are familiar with your father's position in Capsule Corporation. As long as nobody knows anything about Mr. Briefs, every solution will be more or less temporary, but the momentary state of things at Capsule Corporation is unacceptable. You currently are his only heir, so until Mr. Briefs' situation is cleared, you are the only one allowed to make the decisions concerning CC's business."

Playing the astonished, emotionally overwhelmed girl, I fake a gasp.

"What? Me? I haven't been in CC's business hierarchy for more than 5 years!"

"But currently, you are the only one allowed to make substantial decisions. Either you come yourself, or you have to nominate somebody who gets full authority. Another solution is impossible."

"I assume this is temporary until my father is found?"

"Of course, Miss Briefs."

Sighing once more for good measure, I look from one to the other.

"If the military lets me, I'll do it. But I can't say anything before talking to my commanding officer. Would you please wait here; I will see if he is free at the moment."

They nod, and I leave the room. Good, with a little bit of careful negotiation, General Mashimoto will let me go, and all resources of CC will be available to me. Then we can start with Vegeta's space pod, or whatever he calls his crashed pile of junk. Oh joy.

* * *

She was awakened by her bed moving. Sleepily, she opened one eyelid, catching sight of Vegeta's frame against the dark window.

"Where are you going?"

"None of your business, woman."

Sighing, she looked after him.

They had been staying at Capsule Corporation for nearly a week now, both having quit their jobs with the army. There probably were rumors already circulating around about her sleeping with a mysterious, handsome, dark man, but she didn't care. They quietly had filled out the papers that made them wife and husband, even if Vegeta had not been happy about that. But she had reasoned with him that in a position as hers, an official marriage certificate would help prevent many difficulties, and he had reluctantly agreed. So now, they were even sharing a room, but not much had been happening in terms of sex. Both of them were much too focused on their individual tasks, and their pasts were not forgotten.

Every day, he had been getting up at half past four without giving her a real reason. She thought it was to train, but she couldn't be completely sure. He knew how to block his side of the bond so securely that she had no chance of breaking through. And anyways, she needed the sleep, so she just put the pillow back over her head and mumbled something about Vegeta not killing himself.

Looking down at the tired woman, Vegeta took in her presence, her aura. Despite all her ordeals, her aura wasn't closed-off, not ripped open and partially healed before the next injury until it resembled a hardened net of scars like his. Her aura still projected everything she felt. If she had been stronger, it would have manifested in bright colors in the visible range, but even so he felt it as clearly as daylight.

She was not the only one who had been changed by the Binding. Did she even know how much of an influence she had on him?

Turning around on his heels, he walked out of the room, leaving the sleeping woman behind. He had to get in as much training as possible because later on, they would be going over spare parts for his space pod. She had seen his past and not run away screaming. That was enough for him. Too bad she probably would not survive Furiza's invasion of the planet. Because he would rather kill her himself than let her suffer like he had.

* * *

Together, they were sitting in front of a screen, leafing through a catalogue of immense proportions. Occasionally, they would stop at a page, looking at the offers there, and then, more often than not, Bulma made a note on an increasingly thick pile of paper. They weren't talking, but it wasn't necessary. Their minds were linked so closely together that any other form of communication was superfluous. Vegeta projected the image of the broken part in his mind, and Bulma tried to match it to one that could be gotten on earth. Vegeta would then compare its function to the ones it needed to have, and depending on the result, they would either take the part or look for an alternative.

Most of the time, they found what they were looking for, but unfortunately, many parts were simply too big to fit into the small, compact space pod. Several hours later, they were finally done with their grueling work. Exhaustedly, Bulma leaned back and rubbed a hand over her tired eyes. With a voice hoarse from disuse she groaned.

"Why couldn't your technology be any closer to what we have here? I'll have to build most of it from scratch.."

Vegeta though seemed to take the rhetoric question at face value. "If our technologies were matched more closely, you would have already found interstellar space travel, and most likely been discovered by the Cold empire. Be glad that you haven't."

Shaking her head, Bulma didn't answer; instead, she leaned back in her hair and let her hands rest over her eyes. "It's just… that's so much work; I have no idea how we are going to get all of this done within the few months we have left."

"We will," he responded, not quite knowing what else to say. Sighing, they stood up and walked out of the room. Him to train, and her to conduct Capsule Corporation business.

* * *


	9. Summary

**A/N:**

As I already warned you in the last chapter: this is not really a chapter but the short version of the rest of the story (I think I summarized about 40,000 words worth of text). Sadly, I have lost my inspiration for this fanfiction, so there never will be the long version of this chapter (at least not in the foreseeable future). To give the story at least some semblance of conclusion, this is the rest. Have fun with it, and good bye!

* * *

**Rest of the plot-line**

Within three weeks, they manage to complete the space pod. To protect the planet, they decide after a long and tedious argument to flee the planet. Bulma quickly rigs some fake rocket that sends out the same signals as Vegeta's old pod. She shoots it off towards a distant star, both to make Furiza believe they are no longer on the planet and to cover their own tracks.

It is a very close fit in the space-pod, but the two of them manage somehow because Bulma refuses to be left behind. When wake up again from cryo-sleep, they find out that Furiza indeed has taken the bait and left earth alone. Due to the superior speed of the space pods, they are now at least half a year ahead of Furiza and his army.

Vegeta knows of a barren planet where he can train to his heart's content, and Bulma busies herself with inventing new gadgets. An especially great break-through is the gravity simulator (originally intended for herself to nullify any gravitation over 1G), which opens up new possibilities of training.

During their first 8 months together, Bulma has to apply her medical knowledge repeatedly because of Vegeta's well-known penchant for punishing himself through training. Every time he once again has overexerted himself, she can feel it through a strange lurching in their bond, which in turn sparks strange dreams. At first, she thinks they come from him as there are many tailed men and women wandering around, but when she finally shares the memory of one of them, Vegeta tells her that he has never seen those people or the planet. He points out that it rather looks like earth does, and she shrugs those dreams off as an overactive imagination on her part.

Meanwhile, her pregnancy (successful bonding equals children…) is processing neatly, but somewhere along month 3, she starts suffering from fatigue and listlessness. After a little bit of trial and error and no little concern from Vegeta, they find out that the fetus needs more ki than Bulma can create, which Vegeta gladly provides after a few grumbles ("Weak woman, should never have mated with her…"). Those sharings of ki deepen their bond, and within a few weeks, she has to learn how to shield her mind because she makes him lose concentration with her stray thoughts.

Birth though is quite a harrowing ordeal, no matter how much she has prepared herself. Vegeta supports her ki with his, but even so, she is thoroughly exhausted and falls asleep immediately after. During those hours of sleep, the dreams return with a vengeance, but instead of being only snippets, they tell her a whole story:

_A long time ago, there was only one people on Atorantisu: the Atorantisu-jin. They were very knowledgable in technology, genetic manipulation and space travel being no foreigners to them. Then, one day, a giant meteorite impacted with earth and eradicated almost three quarters of all Atorantisu-jin. Afterwards, the survivors split themselves into two groups: Those that favored leaving the planet for better habitat, and those who did not want to give up their home._

_Eventually, the star-seeking ones adjusted their genes for greater strength so that they would not immediately be swallowed by existing star-empires, and they left for space. After many years of flight, they finally found a suitable planet called. Thus, having repudiated their origins from Atorantisu, those survivors renamed themselves Saiya-jin after their queen who they had left behind on Atorantisu._

_Those on Atorantisu studied the Saiyans' genetic modifications and found a major flaw in the design: Although first generation offspring would still benefit from the alterations, they and 99.9 of their descendants would never be able to access the full scope of their strength and abilities. A small group of people started a research project on how to help the Saiyans overcome this weakness, and thirty modified individuals were created. They were sent after the Saiya-jin to unlock all of their abilities, but a cosmic storm damaged their ship, and they had to do an emergency landing on earth._

_As there was no way to repair the space ship, the modified Atorantisu-jin finally settled on the planet and hoped their emergency signal would summon help from Atorantisu. However; even after three decades, nobody arrived, and so the small community of Atorantisu-jin kept on farming and hunting as they had been doing the years before, Very early on, they discovered that the planet was inhabited by an intelligent species that had already developed to a stone-age technology. _

_After a few generations of inbreeding, the Atoranitsu-jin found out that their genetic make-up was to 99.9 compatible, so the first crossbreeds emerged. Studies revealed that the enhancements that would allow them to unlock the Saiyans' full abilities were inheritable, and that most of the genetic memory was transmitted. But their knowledge of technology was quickly forgotten. Eventually, after countless generations, the Atorantisu-jin were absorbed by the indigenous population, and any knowledge of them was forgotten._

Bulma, of course, makes the connection immediately and realizes that Vegeta must be a descendent of the Saiya-jin, just as she is a descendent of the modified Atorantisu-jin. But as she doesn't know how to help Vegeta unlock his full potential, she stays quiet, exerting all her thought-shielding abilities.

Meanwhile, Furiza is constantly coming closer, and once Vegeta Jr. is two months old, they have to flee the planet again, as much as it vexes Vegeta. After three years of constant running and several unlucky meetings with some of Furiza's lackeys (all of them dead now), he finally is fed up and quietly leaves her behind on a civilized planet one night. She is very angry about that and tries to follow him, but he blocks their mind-link completely, and she cannot find a trace of their space-pod. Several weeks pass while she alternately is absolutely furious with him and worried beyond sanity.

Then, all of a sudden, she can feel their mind-link again, only to watch through his eyes how Furiza is taunting and beating him. When Furiza is starting to make sexual advances, she tries to shield Vegeta's mind from the pictures, but memories of her own past overwhelm her. Vegeta struggles on three fronts: against Furiza, against his memories, and against her panic. Everything goes downhill until she finally manages to drag herself out of her stupor and helps him mobilize last resources to battle Furiza away.

When they are in a typical stand-off position once again, Furiza reveals that he still has a transformation that Vegeta doesn't know about. Reverting into his final form, all of Furiza's wounds are healed while Vegeta barely is able to keep his feet under him. Fighting ensues once again, but it is more like the cat toying with the mouse. Finally, Furiza holds Vegeta up with his tail wrapped around Vegeta's neck and prepares the death blow.

Bulma, still looking through Vegeta's eyes, panics and tries to make him move, do anything but hang limply in Furiza's grasp. The Aisu-jin is gloating, Vegeta is depressed, and Bulma is almost out of her mind with worry. Slow-motion-capture of Furiza's fist coming closer, a panicked scream of Bulma, and she looks away. But then, a miracle happens: the fist doesn't connect because of an unexpected power-surge from Vegeta. He frees himself and stands panting across from the Aisu-jin.

While they start fighting once again, Bulma tries to find the source of the strange power Vegeta is using, and all of a sudden, she sees how Vegeta is barely skimming the surface of his own energy. After some trial and error, she finds out that it is her worry for him that is the key. Some mind-bending anguish later, she unlocks the resource, and Vegeta ascends to super-Saiya-jin.

This time, Vegeta has the upper hand, and he doesn't hesitate in killing Furiza as quickly as possible. Those of Furiza's goons who had been watching either are dead now, or they proclaim Vegeta as the new emperor.

After that epic battle and considerable rest, Bulma finally comes clear on those dreams she had three years ago, and how she had unlocked his powers. Vegeta doesn't seem to believe her and shuts himself off once again with the comment that he doesn't need week women.

Bulma is suffering from depression, knowing that Vegeta has left her to rule the galaxy. But then, one day, she sees a huge space ship land not ten miles from her new home, and to her great (and the reader's not-so-great) surprise, Vegeta comes out to get her. After some arguments, Vegeta reveals that made a mistake and doesn't want to rule the galaxy. He has left the empire in the hands of some weakling underling, and has only taken Furiza's flagship.

Some make-up sex later, she forgives him, and together with their son, they board the ship. She would like to see more of the galaxy and find Atorantisu, and he wants searches for the last of his people. But that is another story.

* * *

**A/N:**

And seeing that I haven't even finished this one yet, the other story is not going to be started…

Sakiku


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